Will I Be A Saint?

I was just standing on the stairwell outside my basement room smoking a cigarette and wondering what the fuck should I write about. I then decided the problem was that I wasn’t listening to the right music. I was listening to John Fahey and I decided to listen to the Allman Brothers. Maybe the Southern […]

I was just standing on the stairwell outside my basement room smoking a cigarette and wondering what the fuck should I write about. I then decided the problem was that I wasn’t listening to the right music. I was listening to John Fahey and I decided to listen to the Allman Brothers. Maybe the Southern rock will loosen something in my brain to get some writing done.

I stay up late thinking of ways to destroy myself.

Today was one of those days that I notice that I am old. I could feel every sore part on my body and I could remember the thousand falls, accidents and punches my body has taken. Then I remembered some people that never got to be old.

I switched the music to Chicago. I needed something with rock elements but with a fucking horn section. I really get bored with guitar driven music easily.

I’ve been writing a lot of short stories where characters are having poor relationships with nature and poor relationships with other people. I’d like to branch out from that, but it seems I have a lot to write on the subject.

Yes, it is harder to write when you’re happy.

I’ve been craving hot dogs for the last few days and I think I’ll need to scratch that itch really soon.

I spend a lot of time thinking about things that I’ve done and regret. Some things I’ve spent two decades regretting. I am jealous of the people who can shake some of those terrible things we do off and get on with their lives. I don’t like when someone who has never done the things I’ve done try to give me some advice on how to forgive myself and not feel regret.

Sleep has continued to work out in my favor. I have spent a few nights sleeping deep and wake up feeling rested and rejuvenated. I sometimes feel guilty for sleeping.

If you have not spent anytime listening to Chicago, they sound like a lot of that soft rock indie shit you kids listen to all the time, but Chicago does it better and with a fucking horn section.

So this girl I’m dating tells me she is going to take me out to dinner and she is going to pay, and if you know me, that is hard to persuade me to do – I have a hard time not paying. She takes me to this place called St. Jack’s and is wearing this beautiful green dress and we have a good time laughing, eating, sharing food and holding hands. The whole point of her taking me out on a nice date is to ask me to be her boyfriend.

Goddamn, when the Chicago song, Feelin’ Stronger Every Day gets going; they really know how to use those horns.

I decided to switch to Supertramp’s perfect pop album, Breakfast in America. They don’t use a lot of brass, but they sure know how to use woodwinds.

Have you ever got into a fight and when it was over you felt like you were justified and that the beating you gave the guy was good enough to correct the errors of their ways? I haven’t.

There is nothing lonelier than the sound of a train.

I said yes and am her boyfriend. I’m a sucker for a beautiful woman in a green dress that laughs.

I took some ibuprofen a couple of hours ago, but I kind of want to take more, but I’m scared of getting an ulcer. My back is now throbbing again and making my ribs pulsate and my left knee is aching while my neck is tight as my head hurts.

I better wrap this up and try this new sleep thing. I might try going to bed to Blood, Sweat & Tears. Who knows? I just like a band to have more than the drums and string beasts.

Unicorns do not have wings.