Thursday

Once again, day-to-day life - routine, ostensibly boring life has provided me with potent subject matter for a blog entry. This particular blog entry has been this particular blog entry.
I carry around a bouncey ball. I love it. Any time's a good time to bounce that thing. Bounce it off any thing or any combination of things, and with a carefully chosen route selected considering the geometry and the physics, it always comes back to you. One time at a bus stop, I threw it, and I spaced out, and I missed it - it took off down a side walk and then out into the street. It was bouncing along next to a bus rolling full of people. And here comes me, Mr. DORK, running after it, fuck it, I don't care what those fuckers think, my bouncey ball was getting away. Finally I caught up to it - trapped it under my shoe. Almost got hit by a bus for my bouncey ball. True story. It's fun until you get carried away with it. Just like that fuckin glitter habit I had for a while there. Bouncey balls are helping me come down off the glitter. That shit is like craftsman's crack.

Tuesday

. . . wrote so many reminders on his hand, his blood went septic. . . . was just tryin to help himself . . .
. . and then strange objects began to appear on his desk . . .