1-21-94 SO FUCKIN WHAT
Ok. If I’ve been neglecting to write, it’s because I’m busy
living my life. Or at least guzzling enough beer and combusting enough doobage
to convince myself that’s what’s been happening. I promise heretofore, that my
entries, though sparse, shall be at least worthwhile with all the following
included:
Indicative handwriting
Foul curses
At least one hard, noteworthy fact
Expired use of poetic license or licentiousness
So. I’m 5’9” and I’ve shaved my beard off.
La
Dee Da. Here’s the poem then:
“What
use,” she cried, “to stay in one place”
“Almost
as absurd as wearing the same face”
No
one told me as I was drivin’
That
there’s an end to that horizon
At
the end of the road is a beaten down fence
The
boundary beyond which nothing exists
Where
pipers mill about smoking cigarettes
Unstable,
the lot of them
Soon
to be crowned oyster Princesses
Get
seasick and ask for
A
Rolaid
You
see drivin’
At
this pace can be quite relaxin’
Catching
one-eyed furtive glimpses
Of
daisies
Going
whirring by
STONER
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.