perhaps it's lack of sleep (i only have about 6 hours out of the past 55) but i am overcome with a sense of dread. my workday has featured not one but two major (though brief) stressful upswells. at the end of the week, siouxs! and i are going to knox vegas for a week. all i know is that i have to get out of here as soon as freaking possible. our car is being worked on today, and i think i'm a little freaked out about that.
being of less than wholly sound mind (though still more so than plenty) can be downright scary sometimes. i wish these fucking brain chems would balance, because i'm not taking any meds.
fuck bush and his pharmacydical buddies.

sometimes i actually start to worry about making myself stupid. i drink. quite a bit. from time to time, i toke the reefer. apart from running between ten and twenty miles per week, it isn't as though i live the most healthy of lifestyles. i don't get enough omega three fatty acids in my diet, because i don't really like eating fish if i'm not near the ocean (no, st. louis is not close enough). i'm burning the brain cells without replacing or rejuvenating them. i think i have a ways to go before i'm that crafty old guy who's smart enough to run after he steals some booze, but not to talk his way out of trouble when he gets caught. those of you who haven't met that guy should keep an eye out for him. he's pretty funny in a "aches-at-my-soul-to-see-humanity-so-far-gone" sort of way.
today marks two weeks since i last had a cigarette. weekends are still rough, but siouxs! and i have made it through two so far. be proud of us. it's fucking hard.
fuck bush and all his tobacco-pushing cronies.

headed into another eventful weekend, i could use a rest
last weekend was fairly quiet, but not quite the best
too much to do, too many people to acknowledge
sometimes i wish for a forest park acid trip like saturdays in college
mind refurnishing, spirit refinishing, laughing at the amazing
strange nighttime occurances despite the fact that the sun is blazing
good friends, good times, good afternoons on good drugs
can't fall asleep for the mental twitching, but good rest on bathroom rugs.

it has been suggested recently by an old and somewhat mysterious friend that i should go to canada. i have spent years voicing a vehement anti-canadian sentiment, but in all reality, it has been in jest. i've never met a canadian i didn't like (i've only met like four). i think the reasoning was that they're much cooler about the marijuana up there, so i would enjoy it more. while it is true that i do occasionally enjoy a toke or two, it is no longer such an all-encompassing aspect of my life. i couldn't tell you how long it has been since i smoked the herb (ok, it's not like it's been years or anything), but i have always been a drunkard disguised as a pothead. so mr. leab, if i do go to cananananada, it will only be for a visit.
good god, though, this country is fucked up. last week, i got an e-mail from a certain liberal political action committee who shall remain nameless (hint: it rhymes with smoov-ron) that informed me of a british document from the highest levels of british government detailing american manipulation of intelligence data as a case to go to war. the problem is that we the liberals and even the open minded centrists out here already knew or at least believed that to be the case, and you can't convince the bushies of anything not told to them by our evangelical christian god on high's voice on earth himself, george w. cockmongering bush.
when i do get the fuck out of this country, it won't be north. i'll see you in the carribean, beet red and happy.
fuck-diddly-uck bush (and busch, for that matter).

today the feds determined that sick people can't utilize the one thing (the one natural thing, i might add, more on that later) that can make them feel better. i'm speaking of our dear friend mary jane, commonly known as weed, because it would grow like one across this great nation had some anti mexican sentiment not turned it into the devil. speaking as a person who has watched more than a few people die slowly, i have waited and begged a nonexistant higher power to change the minds of our elected officials, or more importantly, their small-minded constituents, to change the law and ease the pain. i won't go into the long list of reasons pot should be legal and my own favorite vice, the hooch, should not, but suffice to say, i am most dissapointed in this display of filthy oligarchic/aristocratic foolishness.
here's the theory, folks. some pharmaceutical company greed-eater determined that there were too many people who were not forced to fill their already weakened bodies with manufactured poisons (in ten whole states, no less!), so obviously let's start crutch kicking. think about revenues! pain meds, anti depression meds, and anti anxiety meds all increase sales by as much as one tenth of one percent, and if those sons of bitches have figured out a way to make chemo patients hungry, they'll probably roll that out now too.
again, i don't really believe in god, but think about it this way. the repulikkkans have figured out a way to make some more money and jail some more peace-loving people (hippies, yes, but i'll forgive them) by circumventing and outlawing god.
fuck bush with a spliff the size of a redwood. i gotta get the fuck out of this country, man.

i think i am genetically predisposed not to like paperwork, at least in regards to alcohol (like my business). i come from a long line of moonshiners and bootleggers, so anything more than "give me the money i give you the hooch" seems overly complicated to me. i'm not looking to get out of the wine business anytime soon, but it does seem to be an awful lot of paperwork just to get people drunk. perhaps i need to break out the home brewing kit again, so i can feel like i'm in touch with my roots. maybe the land lady will let me build a still in the backyard. even if she would, i doubt the cop in the adjacent yard would be too keen on that. uptight flatlanders, i'm telling you. a booze hound like me can't win for losing.

welcome, chocolate goddess and vanilla adjuster. this should prove to be a fun weekend.

i don't think she's read the ol' blog in quite some time, but i want to wish my beautiful wife suzi a happy birthday. if anyone else would like to as well, send me an e-mail and i will forward it to her.

i don't think i have a free weekend in the entirety of june. i could really use some dedicated nap time, but somehow i think it may be a lost cause.

how many republikkkans does it take to screw in a light bulb?

republikkkans don't screw. the stork brings them light (among other things), or so they say...

fuck bush