"I don't want anything back except my whole life."
You probably saw that posted on the unofficial sandinyerface "sister-site" but sadly I can relate...a little. Anyone who says they wouldn't change a thing are so full of poop but this really isn't what I want to discuss, just a poor segway into my currently semi-wounded mental state.
I'd expect to feel "D-word" (as in a pushing force) in the dead of winter but slowly to suddenly this summer I find myself battling an old foe without purple pills or any Solutions in sight. Damnit! Having some experience with this (refer to December 2007 post that I cleverly hid) I can now step outside of myself and separate the feeling that comes from imbalance and see the reality that I'm OK even if I don't feel that way. TOO MUCH INFO? Probably. There are no secrets in Kodiak so why fight it. Anyway, I don't dream of sucking off a .44 Magnum or have any plans using my body weight to determine the strength of my shower curtain rod (which I doubt could handle 180 pounds of El Sandinista and his dusty partner Junior). This passes much faster than it used to.
I'm not sure if this is related to my inability lately to write at length about anything. I find it harder and harder to find things that really piss me off. Is that good? Perhaps I should live outside city limits, that seems to spark folks. And maybe I have just accepted this little world is f-tarded by nature.
I'd expect to feel "D-word" (as in a pushing force) in the dead of winter but slowly to suddenly this summer I find myself battling an old foe without purple pills or any Solutions in sight. Damnit! Having some experience with this (refer to December 2007 post that I cleverly hid) I can now step outside of myself and separate the feeling that comes from imbalance and see the reality that I'm OK even if I don't feel that way. TOO MUCH INFO? Probably. There are no secrets in Kodiak so why fight it. Anyway, I don't dream of sucking off a .44 Magnum or have any plans using my body weight to determine the strength of my shower curtain rod (which I doubt could handle 180 pounds of El Sandinista and his dusty partner Junior). This passes much faster than it used to.
I'm not sure if this is related to my inability lately to write at length about anything. I find it harder and harder to find things that really piss me off. Is that good? Perhaps I should live outside city limits, that seems to spark folks. And maybe I have just accepted this little world is f-tarded by nature.
FYI: That is in fact a photo of me in 2025. Miss Rhonda's time machine works awesomely.
