I am a patient man. Have been for quite sometime and will remain that way as long as is intended for me to be such. However, the desire to immediately see those things in my head on paper (and not being able to fulfill that desire) is something I struggle with to an unbelievable degree. I hope, and trust, you will sit with me as I wrestle through fulfilling that desire.

I am currently sitting upon my bed (or is it a couch?), mini corn dogs to my left, cigarettes and water before me, the finished book "Another Roadsie Attraction" to my right, with a soundtrack compiled by a girl I knew and a girl I know. All, at once, it is a soundtrack which brings on happiness and depression of a great magnitude. Undoubtedly, it will set the tone for the rest of this mess of text, to one degree or another. I enjoy that being the case, and I think the girl responsible for the soundtrack would take, even if secretly, a bit of pleasure in that fact, as well. Her car is in my driveway, too. She is not here. So it is.

Sleep pulls down on my eyelids like cement shoes on Fred Astaire's feet. But, I simply must tell you, the reader, of the revelation I've recently had. Of how grand life has become after already being pretty damn fine. It's a good and well thing this is in writing and not a verbal conversation, because who knows how long I will dwell on this particular, or any subsequent, subject. And you may have things to tend to. It's nice knowing you'll be able to, and hopefully will, come back to this. To my words. my revelation.

Life is filled with as much happiness as you allow to fill it. If you are of a mind to go out there increasing the sixe of your life (like I have become), from kid size to supersize, the happiness will increase, as well. However simple and trite that may sound, it is the truth I have discovered. My revelation.

"Such is life."
A cliche I've been know (quite well, in fact) to use (quite often, in fact).

Oh, precious little saviour. Reliever of all pain except your own. Bright shining little star swimming in a blackhole ocean of your own chaos. Singing siren of confusion, bring your load of trouble to my cargo bay of friendship. I'll do what I can to pack it up and ship it out. If the postage proves to be too expensive, I'll lend a hand in the hauling of your burdens.

The ring of the telephone sings with the beauty of your voice when I see your face on the caller i.d. Is that sentiment loaded, to any degree, with cheese? If so, I apologize. but, let me get you some macaroni to go with it as an attempt to redeem myself. I know you like macaroni and cheese. So do I. Likeness number one? Me and my fucking numbers... Who's really counting?

I didn't say anything, dude. Er... dudette. I'm almost completely positive I probably should have said something. Something. Anything. Nothing. Like, what I felt, how I felt, when I felt. but, as they say: "Hindsight is always 20/20". But, looking back, things seem a bit fuzzy. Blurry. Hazy. Not that I mind things the way they were or the way they are. Nor the way they will be in the future. God... I feel as though I'm being a bit egocentric in my writings, my relaying of the course of events that have taken place. Though, I would suppose the manner in which I am looking at things, approaching my writing of those things, and they way those things will impact others is a good, positive, and enlightening things. Everything and everyone move around and through everything else and everyone else, sort of a bit like one gigantic sytem of gears in the grandfather clock of life.

My deepest and most sincere apologies, dear Ash. Though, an ash is not how I see you. Before, now, or ever. I see you as a glowing ember, bringing precious warmth and light to the coldest and darkest aspects of life. Especially mine. Perhaps I shouldd move onward and upward before this jarbled mess of letters and space and punctuatios become the ssinking sand of my "creative" process.

The famed hip hop mc, Big Shug, once said "I'm pimpin' hard and, bitch, you're just a ho." I think he might have forgotten a couple of letters from that sentence. I think he could have more effectively made his point (perhaps, a bit sharper, even) by saying "i'm pimpin' hard and, bitch, you're just a hole." Hole is more direct and to the point than ho. Isn't the whole idea of being a ho that the person is nothing but a mere hole? i certainly could use a good hole right about now. Yeah, especially now. Not a hole that I, literally or figuratively, trip and fall into, forever digging deeper trying to free myself from. I'm thinking mor along the lines of what, in war, is refferred to as a "foxhole". A place of retreat and protection. It is my firm belief that is the ultimate prize every man or woman with a thoghtful heart and a loving mind are in search of. It's a shame beyond shame that so many stray cats do not realize they already have it in their peers, their friends.

Friends...