i remember back in the days when the web was young and i actually kept a primivate web journal. oh, how times have changed and we now have entire systems built around the art of self glamourization. too bad they don’t have freaking spell check yet because that’s all i really need to start cranking volumes of electrons. but again, the reason i feel the need to write today is not about volumes of rants but simply therapy for the broken heart. it’s not so broken that i need to crawl under my bed sheets and cradle my single malt scotch every night (okay maybe twice a week) but more like the festering frustration that I didn’t get my 2 cents in before the bridge has been entirely burnt.
i am usually drawn to writing when my mind is agaited like the high monkey monk. nights when i think about the stuff of dreams and nightmares until 4am and then only to wake up 20 minutes later to start all over. nights when i start out the evening with a glass of wine and progress to sob stories from other man that can play the guitar. like last night when i listen to the the’s ‘true happiness lies this way’, i couldn’t help but shout out such beautifully concise lyrics. since i can’t play a piece of instrutment to save my life, i ended up writing a long letter to her. well, it wasn’t really long but outlook crash when i tried to send it. yes, i know it was a sign but i didn’t listen and sent it anyway. actually, i was really really suprised when she called to ask the meaning for a three sentence letter. i guess i loaded up with so much meaning that it could have been intrepreted on a number of levels. that’s the power of writing. too bad i was such a SUCKER to answer the call knowing that i am a weak bastard when it comes to that shit. I hadn’t spoken to her in two weeks and all i get is what the hell is the meaning of you letter. good night. click. thank you for your service.