Words in a sequence repeated over and over with no real understanding. “Something this or after that, but is neither: this or that. Before a while but all too soon. Afterwards is next but premature to be the last. Smoke a cigarette perhaps. You inhale the initial hit as the smoke enters your lungs. All the while, ignoring the fact that the chemicals are killing you. Ah! That initial taste of the tobacco, one might lick ones lips. Enjoy the sweet victory of perfection, (albeit a verb) as you cease to exist from time and space momentarily. Seconds if that, the world assimilates and resumes as if it had never stopped. But wait, how long must we wait? Welcome back. Cue inner doubt.”

“Sure dude, can I just pay for my hotdog already.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. Three dollars please.”

Today is my birthday. Very thankful and loving life. This is the perfect song for exactly right now. Enjoy.

So I am convinced you have to be almost if not crazy to be a writer. Its a balancing act, a slippery slope. For some time now I haven’t been able to tap into the crazy aspect. I needed a bit of time to be somewhat normal and take a break from the madness that is my gladness. So, this is me returning to crank on some new material and crank out some old material. I’m not going to say I am the best or even close to the best writer. All is relative. I’m just a writer. And its time to write! Much-love.

Dance, sing, frolic.