I write about my life. Any questions?
I've sat here every night for the last week, staring at this empty computer screen. The cursor blinks at me, kind of taunting me. I want to make it do something. Anything. I've got that itch. You know, that one that only a finished piece can cure? Well, I've just about stomped my usual inspirations into the ground. I've got nothing new to report. Nothing humorous. Nothing remotely intriguing to divulge. I could bore you all with the latest trials and troubles with my truck, the White Bastard,
Updated 02-24-2010 at 03:00 PM by skib
No, it isn't on my pathetic love life (or lackthereof) or my pathetic life in general.
I need technological advice.
I have been looking at getting a digital camera for some time now. Money is obviously an object, because along with this camera, I have to save up for a week-long car trip up north-ish, a new truck, my 2010 gun, the next three jobless months of my life, etc.
I want something pretty durable, waterproof if possible, simple, and takes decent
Tonight I went to see a good buddy of mine star as Mac in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, and I must say it was PHENOMENAL. Even if the Mac character is essentially Luke with a few less manners, he and the rest of the cast worked a great production.
However, like almost every other time I go into public, especially a place like college campus, I go home and hate life. It took me a few years to figure out why, and a few months ago another friend of mine put it into short words-
today has got to be the worst day I've had in a while. it started off great. The sun was shining, my coffee was great, I got some homework done ahead of time, and it was warm enough to work outside in a cutoff T. I changed the drive belts on my truck, after about two years of putting it off. I had some trouble. Its often hard to distinguish one greasy thing from another. I got it done in around three hours. I got my workout done and blasted my shoulders/arms/abs with
About the middle of December, I noticed myself getting a slight bit sick. I did the usual remedies to get well- stayed out too late, drank all the medicinal whiskey I could get my hands on, and stayed cold too long. Sure enough, the threat of my semi-annual cold disappeared. However, a week or so later, I felt this odd blob on the back of my tongue. I hawked and gagged and worked it out. Roughly the size of a small pea, was an unidentifiable goober, not quite a booger, but unlike anything I'd