Archive for the ‘ Gonzo ’ Category

I am Batman.

A Wonderful thing happened tonight.

I was standing at my window, observing the night sky as the darkness set in. My cat Wilbur was laying low in the grass, Lucy sat in front of him, panting in that retarded yet adorable way only a dog seems capable of pulling off. I could barely make them out, faint as they were in the dim white light of my laptops monitor behind me.. facing the window with me, watching the pair.

Lucy had made a fatal error in judgement, her tongue, dangling as it was from her mouth… Would soon trigger the instincts of Wilbur to attack and pounce… I probably could have called her in the time it took Kitty to attack, but why should I? Lucy needs to learn a lesson and I need some mild amusement at 11pm on a Saturday night, so just as I feared…Wilbur leaps onto Lucy’s face, leading with her barbed little paws, and it was at this moment that something amazing happened, maybe it was the yelp Lucy let out… But just at that moment, as my own instincts were triggered by the high pitched bark… An enormous shaft of light shot into the sky from a great distance, I’m not kidding… It shimmered along the low dense cloud cover as it searched the sky with great fervour, I was dumbfounded, gobsmacked even, my eyes followed the heavenly light. Left, right, left… Right! Why? Why was it doing this? Surely it was making a call… A plea for help, in one brief instant in time, I let myself be convinced that the light being shot up into the sky was in-fact for me, because they needed my help.. and who am I?

I am Batman, that’s who this silly light in the sky has convinced me I am, The Dark Knight, morally ambiguous anti-hero driven by childhood trauma, I may not have any actual superpowers, but I have some really fucking cool gadgets that you will most likely find in a toy store near you, along with a clearly phallic bat mobile that fucks any scumbag unlucky enough to be illuminated in its blinding headlights. I am an alpha male, I eat sleep and shit manliness, there is always a new attractive woman on the horizon who has everything in her life except for that one key ingredient… Me, but I will not stay with this woman, because she only signed on for one movie and I wouldn’t be very anti-hero with a wife and 2.4 children now would I?, so I must live as a perpetual bachelor with the occasional passionate but brief affair. I also pretend not to care about social issues by living the life of a playboy millionaire, but really.. deep down in my dark heart. I do, I fucking care… Like, a whole fucking bunch. So I must answer this light in the sky, I must wear fifty pounds of leather and endure the agony of relentlessly itchy balls an outfit like that would surely cause, I must wear eye shadow, because without it my helmet would look crap, you’d clearly see the skin around my eyes and it would clash with my expensive dark body armour and this would not do. But most importantly of all, I must wash the scum from the streets of Gotham with my reign of Vigilante Justice, I must help.. for i am needed.

All of this flashed before my minds eye as I stared into the distant probing light.

But as soon as I had convinced myself, I knew in that same instant that it was a sham. I’m just some schmuck dreaming his life away, and the light.. Wondrous as it was… Beamed from some fancy nightclub with shite music and fancy lighting in a town called Navan, not twenty miles from where I now sit. Awwwww, fuckin reality. Why must you insist on gatecrashing my dreams?

But dejection soon turned to amusement, Lucy and Wilbur lay together on the grass, the cat licking the dogs face, who in turn let out a prolonged groan of satisfaction into the night sky, all is well in my sleepy home, and I really need to see that new Batman movie.


One Hundred and Thirty Thousand Reasons to be afraid.

Trim, County Meath, Ireland.

3.30pm, Thursday, 3rd July, 2008

I stepped out of the bank onto the wet pavement as crowds of people milled past, hurrying to wherever they needed to be to avoid getting overly wet, it’s raining, obviously. My father stood beside me as we looked up and down the narrow street for traffic, suddenly it was too late… I spotted him at the last instant, this hooded man who stood out from the crowd with singular intent, to get to me… Raising an arm that clutched a shotgun with its barrel sawn off to deliver maximum carnage at minimum range, I looked into his eyes in that brief moment before the smoky flash… He didn’t seem to care about my life, no compassion in those cold dead and dark eyes, his face contorted into a mask of self induced rage he obviously had to work himself into to even get this far, it’s a shame, I would have just handed it to him, all that mattered was the paper… Just bits of paper in the bag wrapped over my shoulder, some fuck working in the bank must have set this up, it was the only place a leak could have materialized.

Anyway… I’ve just been Shot and I fall backwards ever so softly… Or at least it seems that way, my chest perforated with hundreds of little soft lead balls that have flattened and surely shredded my internal organs, I don’t feel it though, I know I should be wailing in agony and demanding medical treatment but it’s wonderfully calm actually. I should get shot and die more often, won’t be long now, that mysterious nothingness is all that awaits me… I see the hooded stranger take off down the street, his shotgun leaving a smoky wake as he darts and bulls his way through a crowd of panic, bag in hand. It’s a funny angle, watching his escape as my head rests on the cold wet pavement, Is that blood? Ah yes.. My blood, shock is a wonderful thing, I wonder do a lot of violent deaths end this way when the victim has time to kill before expiring? Is it calm? Soundless? A comforting examination of the events as they play out in slow motion? But yeah…. There goes my blood, mixing with the rain water as it leaks out onto the street. It looks really bad, I really don’t think I’m bleeding THAT badly, the dilution effect.. It has to be, I strain to tell those that approach that it’s just a trick, blood always looks worse mixed with water, but no words come out… Just blood as it seeps out of the sides of my mouth, bubbling through red teeth. They must be scared, they crowd around me now, serious strained faces shouting and gesturing wildly in every which direction… Someone is on the phone, don’t bother, there is no time.

A serious case of day dreaming I have going on at the moment, Yes indeed. Why was I day dreaming about being shot walking out of a bank? Well I was in one at the time of said oddly disturbing day dream, helping my father withdraw a large sum of money, the exact amount is not entirely relevant to this particular blog, but let’s just say it was enough to make me jump away into my imagination and dream about shoot outs at Midday in sleepy town Trim. So what really happened? We waited in an office, sitting in uncomfortable silence with one of the clerks until finally in came the bank manager with the cash, which I spirited into a carry bag and placed over my shoulder… So far so easy.

After much blabbing and small talk pleasantry nonsense I plaster on a fake smile and we both say our goodbyes to the staff…Who I don’t like. I don’t think I like any bank staff, how could you work with all of those huge piles of cash and not try to steal it? I just don’t get it, is it not everyone’s dream to pull off the perfect heist and swing in a hammock whilst smoking opium  as the self proclaimed King of some third world country backed by a band of Mercenary thugs? Am I alone on that one?.
But anyway the nervy part had arrived. People are always wishing for more Money, “I wish I had more money my life would be fucking great, yay hurrah blah blah blah” and all that jazz, but let me tell you… Imagine walking through a town with a large amount of money on you, it never feels quite right… Because you know that on the street with you there is a certain percentage of people who, if circumstances permitting, would take that money from you out of sheer greed, having it makes you paranoid… You’re looking at little girls walk by you and double checking to see if they pull out an uzi machine gun at your back to fill you full of lead… It’s possible you know, you could train them to do that.
But yes.. walking out of the bank, my favourite uncle was waiting for us. I  walked between them as they flanked me, this part I like. I’ve never had bodyguards before, It’s reassuring to know you have these walking bags of meat to slow down a few bullets for you when the shit hits the fan… It was raining but the streets were busy, just like my daydream… But no lunatic with shotgun to end me where I stood thankfully, so anyway we’re walking, nearing the waiting Jeep when I spot this really really attractive woman coming towards us… I mean one of those Gob smacking beauties that give you that just been slugged in the gut feeling when you lay eyes on them. She looked like Eva Green, that wonderful actress in the new Bond Movie… shame she died in that movie actually, at the end she drowns, very convincing little death I might add, but anyway… back on course.

I’m so Smitten by her beauty that I stupidly let my guard down, it was a set up of course, and me like a trained monkey fell for it, beautiful girl, guard down, oldest trick in the book you fool! Before I even had time to cry like a little girl She’s taken out a silenced small calibur firearm and is blazing wildly at my father and favourite uncle.

*Lights Smoke*

So Yes… This is terrible, my father and favourite uncle have just been gunned down in front of my eyes, they drop like sacks of rocks on either side of me. ‘Damn… You cowardly bitch, did you have to kill my favourite uncle?’  I Exclaimed in a really smart arse annoying even by my own standards manner, holding my hands up as she points the handgun at me, a sly grin creeping across her face, indicating to me that she’s not only ruthless, but sadistic… What a combo! Anywho, eventually she opens her yapper and starts flapping her beautiful lips about me setting the money down on the ground and taking a step back, I would be spared, all the usual bullshit, I was unafraid as I held my ground, the rain pattering around us, quietly but confidently offering up a compliment ‘You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen… Wild eyes’ Which seems like a strange thing to say when two immediate family members have just been shot down in front of you and it’s looking like you’re next, but hey… We all realize at this point that I’m day dreaming again… So I can make this as strange as I like.

But back to her reaction, she didn’t like it… My smart arse comment that is, I figured that out as soon as my kneecap exploded after she shot it, I fall to my knees and make a wonderfully dramatic wailing painful screech that trails off into a bored monotone bleargh sound, one suitable for the horrific occasion. It’s raining still… I drop the bag with the money in front of me, she’s approaching now as her gun remains trained upon my forehead… Cold dripping steel pressing against my skull as she arrives to collect her bounty, leaning down with that same grin… Unchanged since it’s arrival, letting me get a perfect view of those small perky tits. What a sadistic bitch, I was almost turned on, fuck it, I was turned on, save for the fact that she thought nothing of ending my life, that’s definitely a barrier to arousal in that respect, so yes… What am I thinking? I can’t just die here in this day dream, I did that in the last one, I want to win this one, I’ve decided… So as soon as her beautiful little greedy fingers are on the bag I launch myself upwards whilst grabbing for the gun, a ballsy play I hear you say. Indeed… and it paid off.. I managed to deflect the aim of the pistol as it fired, continuing upwards as I use my head to crack her one right on the chin.
She’s out cold in an instant, her body falling back to the hard concrete below, a loud wet slap as it comes to a halt. What a shame, In another day dream… we could have been friends doll face, maybe even lovers. I pick the pistol up and aim it at her pretty unconscious face, but I don’t kill her, I want the good guy who is too big hearted to seek revenge ending this time,  so I toss the hand cannon aside along with the evil money. Good Riddance I say, climbing into the back of the Jeep I originally intended to get into in the first place.

My Father and uncle are waiting for me Impatiently in the front seats, there was no attractive lady or murder or anything else exciting for that matter. Just a boring old walk from the bank to a car in the rain. I think I like my world better.

Neil Young?

I remember the wonderful sunny day in Dublin City. I remember the amber whiskey flowing so smooth. I remember the fantastic concert as a swirl of noise and laughing faces. I remember that thirty minute guitar solo that bleed all over the large crowd. I remember my cousin Daniel asleep on the grass, with limbs out like some slumbering angel. I remember Philip having one of the most profound experiences of his life at the piss pots. I remember leaving. I remember an insane amount of ranting while standing in the middle of nowhere in darkness. I remember threatening to throw both myself and Vincent out of the emergency exit of the bus and under a speeding car. I remember meaning it. I remember Vincent laughing that he would gladly die if it meant I would die too. I remember him also meaning it. I remember the fifteen minute discussion on the best way to eat your own face. I remember the laughter that would not stop because I had temporarily lost my mind. I remember the middle aged woman and her husband beside us, masks of fear etched across their faces. I remember another couple laughing. Oh dear lord, what happened last night?


I don’t think I want to remember some of it.

If you work for a living, why do you kill yourself working?


The Sheer horror of it.

Even the word fills me with an empty black dread, now don’t get me wrong, I’m not afraid of good honest labour, but let’s be frank, there is a big difference between Work and labour, the former bringing with it countless other annoying social conundrums to contend with, work relationships and the putting up with of assholes “The Boss”, rules , regulations, being on time.. Etc etc. All very annoying we can agree. I Say this because I happen to be stuck in work at the moment, slaving like an 8 year old Malaysian Adidas employee, endless reams of numbers, statements, Invoices, quotations, phone calls. This high pressure corporate world is crushing my poor Hobo Soul, turning me into a machine of profit… All I can think about now is my Job and the making of lots and lots of money so that I may buy such important things as thick Gold Chains and Jewellery to inform the world around me that I have a lot of disposable income and don’t mind flaunting it with meaningless displays of perverse affluence, maybe a flashy car that makes very loud Vroom Vroom noises and is shaped and curved like some fifties American pin up, so that I can impress members of the opposite sex in  the hopes that I might be afforded the chance to stick my penis into them……. Come on ladies, look at me, I have prospects, I have wealth, you can have some too, just let me stick my penis in you!

No…….. wait, wait. I am lying through my sun tanned teeth.

You see, in actual reality, today is “Bring your shotgun into work day” A really fun work bonding experience that involves a Shotgun, 450 rounds of ammunition, 450 Clay Pigeons, a Clay Pigeon Launcher, and one disused scrap yard filled with the hulking wrecks of looming cranes and great big diggers you used to see as a child and dream of driving through anyone and anything that stood in your way… Now just carcasses, a mix of rust and that comforting danger yellow most heavy machinery seems to be blessed with, resigned to rot until someone deems it finally profitable to smelt them down. This idea is the brain child of my father (The Boss). For his many faults, and I do mean many, he is actually one of the greatest employers you can have, (If you’re not his son, that is) as far from conventional as you can get basically. So instead of working this afternoon we all went out back to the scrap yard and set up a firing range, why work when you can blow the crap out of hunks of Clay as they hurtle through the air, I like to imagine they’re little alien saucers flying overhead, trying to spy on us, finding victims for their suitcases of Anal probes, not on my watch, not with my trusty double barrel shotgun at the ready, eat high velocity lead you bug eyed bastards!

Anyway, there was six of us in total and we each took our turns belting out the lead as the clay pigeons sailed silently through the sky at various angles, the wind catching and twisting them in unpredictable directions right at the moment you’re about the pull the trigger, needless to say just about everyone missed most of what they were shooting at(Except myself of course), but not really caring as the sheer thrill of hearing that violent burst of sound that makes your heart jump and your ears scream, the mood was jovial but edgy, which can’t be helped because no matter how much fun you have shooting inanimate objects that secret fear is always in the back of your mind, this machine is designed to Kill, I never forget that when I hold a shotgun, it was no different this time around, especially given the fact that what we were doing was not strictly legal, randomly deciding to shoot weapons in the workplace (Unless you’re a gun club) is generally frowned upon by health and safety inspectors.

But on a slightly lighter note I think I made quite an impression on the youngest of our employees here, “Little” Johnny as he’s affectionately come to be known, due to his small stature, just shy of five feet tall and at 17 probably not going to get any taller, cue little man syndrome, he’s joined a gym to beef himself up, I think his logic is that if he beefs himself up to an Adonis like condition it will somehow compensate for his lack of height (Endlessly fascinated with the expressions of little man syndrome in the vertically challenged people I meet) But he’s a nice fellow, with a good heart and a common sense you don’t expect from someone that age (I had none at that age, not much now for that matter) but all afternoon he wouldn’t stop complementing my skill with the shooting, asking me for tips, had I ever competed or would I consider it, flattery flattery flattery, no idea what to do with it once I receive it, he seems to think my rather nihilistic view of life and its problems is hilarious and easy going, I don’t have the heart to explain to him that it’s really just a cover for my own inability to find and express any type of meaning into my life at the moment, that’s too heavy a truth to place on the shoulders of  little angel faced johnny, who knows nothing of these things, let him have his delusion, at least for now, life will crush him soon enough. Anyway… Excellent times were had all round, by the time we finished it was 4.30pm and almost time to go home, I just had to reflect on the fact that I’m glad I don’t work in some normal structured environment,  I’d never last, Chaos is too close a friend for that kind of world, I’ve no idea what I am going to do with myself long term, I’ve yet to find my purpose, my “use” to make this world a somewhat better place if such a position exists for me, but for now, this will do just nicely, at least until it all comes crashing down around our heads, which it will.

Roll on “Bring Your Hammock and Honey Rum to Work Day”

Me, My Balls and I



I’ve just had two women fondle my nut sack, but not in the fashion I’d have liked. For some time now I’ve had a small lump on my Scrotum which mildly concerned me, but not enough to spur me into action. Finally in the last week this lump started to grow at an alarming rate and became painful, I was forced with a choice, delude myself into thinking nothing was wrong, or go see the doctor about whatever horrible potential thing was happening to my man bits. As appealing as the first option was, I took a dose of courage and made an appointment for this morning; the doctor was young, female and attractive…good thing I hear you say?…How wrong you are! I got a bad case of stage fright, it was bloody cold in that room, that’s my excuse, so I felt I was a little misrepresented truth be told… But anyway, she asked me to pull down my pants… Not to my ankles mind you, that would spare me a shred of dignity, no-no…  just enough to expose my bum and frontal area for her viewing pleasure. I did as was told and sort of waddled into position for her inspection… After a good long minute of squinting and head tilting she finally ventured a guess “It looks like a..” she trailed off as she began to stare again, what the fuck am I supposed to think? Don’t leave me in terrifying suspense here Doctor, a diagnosis would be appreciated… “A cyst. We’re going to have drain it” she finally admits. Grand! I thought to myself, we can arrange some day to visit a surgery and have at it, plenty of time to mentally prepare myself for the coming horror, but oh no… She of course meant right now this instant and told me so very matter of factly. Before I could come up with fantabulously creative lie to escape she was out the door and into another room to prepare… Oh joy.

“Keith!… Could you follow me down the hall please.” She shouted up about a minute later… Meanwhile, I’m still standing there with my penis hanging out, debating if I should go to the trouble of pulling my pants back up to walk a few feet down a hallway or just go as was. I don’t know why but I had a little laugh to myself at the mental image of my waddling into the other room all jiggly like… What a heroic thing to do if you think about it, shame aside of course, but anyway I’m a coward so I pulled my pants up and met my destiny. Walking into the room I was told to pull my pants back down again straight away and to lay flat on the small operating table chair thingy they had… So doing as I was told I lay myself down. There was now a nurse, a much older woman… To assist the doctor, they stood either side of me and both of them began to have a little root around down below, discussing the best way to perform the procedure… It was nice, I have to admit, It was a pleasant prelude to a horrible experience, why not enjoy it? As long as I didn’t get an erection everything would be plain sailing. They decided to numb the area around the cyst (on my nutsack) with a local,  so I was informed that this would sting quite a bit. The older nurse clutched my hand in hers, which lay flat on my chest, I took this as a bad omen… I mean when do you ever see that? The only time I’ve ever seen someone clutching another persons hand like that was when something really painful and horrible was about to transpire, you clutch the hand of a dying man to bring him some small measure of comfort as that great black descends upon him.

I felt it, boy did I feel it, the needle piercing my poor scrotum, this was a new kind of sting, a high voltage sting, it’s been many a year since I have been introduced to a new frequency of stinginess but this was just intensely awful… I squeezed that old hags hand like a motherfucker. I was glad I didn’t shave my balls for this now, let the pair of them suffer like poor old foolish me, welcome to the jungle bitches!.. An eye for an eye! The pain finally reached a lovely crescendo and then vanished… Cool numbness made its introduction and I welcomed it with open arms, the needle was replaced with a small stainless steel blade… Very fine and precise, I didn’t look… I couldn’t, what man alive could lay and there and actually look at his brain being cut on like that? Not me, not today. I fixed eyes upon the ceiling and pulled the kind of grimace normally reserved for Someone attempting to shit out a football. The Old nurse didn’t seem to mind me squeezing her hand either, she finally asked if I was ok and if I needed anymore local as I looked to be in some distress… I informed her that the face I was pulling was a purely natural one considering the circumstances ( Two women, My balls and a blade ) and that she shouldn’t be alarmed as I couldn’t feel a thing now anyway… What the doctor did down there I can only guess at… It involved cutting and draining I imagine, not a pretty image… You’re probably retching or thinking about retching right now, that’s fine, I would be too, I did warn you at the start of this blog in large capital letters did I not?

It was a somewhat deflating end… I expected some gruelling ordeal but the actual incision and removal of god knows what down there turned out to be mostly pain free, so after applying a sort of bandage type deal down below I was told it was over with and that everything was fine, awkwardly pulling my pants back up I thanked the two ladies for their fine work and slowly shuffled out… Feeling 10 inches tall, there is just no pride to be salvaged from such an experience… None at all. I did the only thing I could think of doing at a moment like that. Place a hand reassuringly close to my now traumatised Balls as I began the journey home.

It’s been about two hours since the operation and the sensation is starting to return, as well as a bloody awful pain.. I had to write this fucking blog standing up. I have my laptop out  on the pool table and all I can do is wander around, sitting is sadly out of the option for the time being… I’m forced to waddle around like some kind of moron who has a bomb in his underwear, things are that delicate.

On a semi-final note, Thank you kindly for taking this journey with me… I hope it was as special for you as it was for me, I can gladly inform you that everything is still in working order down there, I actually feel as though I’ve forged a new stronger relationship with my balls now, the kind of Bond forged in the heat of certain shared death, that’s the golden shiny positive I’m taking from all of this… Shattered dreams production this was not.

Finally, to all you men out there, some advice… Fondle your nuts on a very regular basis and don’t wait if you find anything, go to your doctor damn you, they’ll lop whatever it is right offa you there and then.. If i can do it, you can too.

The Criminal Impulse.


I’ve gone and made a grievous error in judgement. I came in to work this morning with the sincere belief that I’d be a good little busy bee and get something done.. But fate and my own impulsive nature have scattered such delusions to the wind.

It all started with a simple trip to the local Centra store to get a ham and cheese roll, I should have known the omens were bad when the woman at the deli counter gave me too much cheese, nothing good comes from too much cheese.
No matter how many times I ask, in the clearest language possible (“Just a tiny amount of cheese please, I mean a really small amount.. A trace amount.. One single piece of cheese”) She pours a mountain of grated cheese into the roll, I resist the urge to force feed it up her ass so far that every time she opens her mouth a Richard Marx level of cheese comes vomiting forth, a bit harsh and slightly out of proportion with the wrong that had been done to me, but it’s one of those mornings, I pay for it and go.

Since I am not driving I had to get a lift from one of the youngsters working for *Blankety CeNsOrEd blank* on an apprenticeship, who shall remain anonymous… 19 years of age, he insisted he had to make a quick stop on the way back to the workshop… Quite fine by me, a perfectly reasonable request. So we drove down the back roads of County Meath, those narrow slips of tarmacadam that invade the lush greenery, meandering and bumpy as the ground shifts beneath it, the hedges slowly reclaiming the road as the branches from trees form a high pitched snapping drumbeat on the windshield… Beautiful clear day, my kinda lazy day… Finally arriving at a shack of a house that wouldn’t look out of place on the set of Deliverance.

Exiting the vehicle we proceeded inside to visit a friend of Anonymous… As soon as I stepped foot inside the house a wave of something hit me.. I’m not sure now if it was trepidation or an overwhelming smell, danger smell, drug smell, there was a serious amount of Narcotics on the premises… It was probably a mix of both.
I was amazed, these boys were only out of school and already neck deep in the criminal energy of men twice their age. The house lived up to my initial impressions, it was falling apart, neglect and time were taking care of that… It was like something from 1950’s Ireland… Perfectly preserved like some famine house of old. We moved into a bedroom… A large drawer was opened, I couldn’t believe my bulging eyeballs… Drugs of every description in the kinds of quantity that ensured free accommodation in any one of Ireland’s fabulous prisons for half a lifetime. I was struck with a terrible and sudden Urge, I should beat these two men into unconsciousness and stuff every last illegal substance into a giant bin bag…  How delighted would my friends be if I showed up like some kind of deranged father Christmas at their door… Reaching into my large bag to give them the kind of present they wished their parents would get them for Christmas, those matching socks would look rather dull compared to a kilo of Amsterdam’s finest vacuum backed into a brick of pure compressed joy…but I must never listen to that voice in my head, no-no… I must put it back in its box… I must smile and stand in the corner, back to the wall Keith… It’ll all be over shortly.

And over it was… Anonymous simply reached into a large bag and grabbed a clump of something nice and green, he had a toothache and this was to be his cure. Beating a hasty retreat we stopped at an old Stone bridge… Sitting out in the sun, it was a glorious day, too glorious to be working inside a stuffy factory… I sampled the painkiller, if anonymous had any pain in that tooth beforehand, I doubt he could feel it now, let alone his entire melon head (his head does actually look like a melon, so that’s not an insult).

So finallyback in work, It’s time to reflect.

Now I don’t normally consort with the criminal element, but it struck me… Rhe Drug trade in this country is being run, at least at the Lower to Mid-Level, by boys, most of whom are still in school or of that age at least. I could see the attraction for them, there is a sharp sense of danger in this line of work, a thrilling menace you only get from doing something the law of the land forbids, they seem addicted to it, like a drug in and of itself, unable to see themselves slip deeper and deeper into the quagmire… Not really bad people, just addicted to the thrill… and I must say, having the kind of addictive personality I have, I can definitely see what is appealing about it, which is exactly why I must stay away from that Criminal Impulse.

Back to shitty work, or at least pretending to work.


My cat hates me. (Not really, he loves me to bits)

It’s official, months and months of careful affection nurture have come crashing down in a brief but turbulent period of sickness. The Vet said it was a touch of pneumonia, His little adventures would have to come to a close while his body rested and recovered, no more outings to the Barn.
It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the gravity of his situation, he certainly does… But his thirst for adventure will I fear only be quenched by death, never has a saying been more true, Curiosity will indeed kill your cat… If you let it.

So it was with great dismay I discovered him MIA this afternoon, my nieces, bless their sweet little visiting hearts, had deemed that all the doors to the house should remain open at all times… A logical conclusion for a child that has just arrived at her sixth birthday. Happy Birthday Lauren, by the way… I know you won’t see this but happy birthday anyway…Sorry I didn’t show up at the party or get you a present… yet! I was too busy getting annihilated with my good friend Philip, who I might add, has the affections of a certain lady by the name of Lucy, I see a definite future in it for the pair of them, but I digress… It was a logical conclusion for my Nieces to have all of the doors open… They could freely move in and out of the house at any point whenever the whim took them, bad news for my containment of Wilbur however.

I seem to have mislocated my drink now also, I could have sworn I put it on the floor…but now I’m faced with a mystery too complex to solve, defeated at the first by half a dozen or so older drinks of similar origin… Scattered about my room, all of various sizes… The only way to be sure is to test drink every last flat room temperature one of them… A task too great given my current condition, I must chalk this one up as another loss on my already significant “things I’ve managed to lose” list. Still, I need to get my drunk on.

Stop the press… I just thought of the ultimate gunfight, special thanks to Daithi for helping to inspire this…Clint Eastwood vs Charles Bronson, High street at noon.. Pistols… Both in their prime. Eastwood, that tall thin bearded frame that looked as if the wind might blow it away with the dust balls if it were not for the simple fact that Clint is cooler than the wind, so the laws of Physics clearly don’t apply to this man… Standing in the street, facing down Charles Bronson, the man with the Death Wish who cannot die… He’s some kind of native Mexican type… You just can’t tell, It’s like he just crawled out of the Arizona desert as a baby and threatened some poor woman to raise him… Or else. Who would draw first?…Is the fabric of space time strong enough to resist the pull that these two men, standing faced off against each other… I’m not sure… Let us just be thankful such a thing will never occur, found my fuckin drink.

Anyway… Where is my poor sick cat? (I found him shortly after, all is well)