Breathe.
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I’ve been so incredibly busy today and out of town, but I didn’t want to lose my posting streak. That said, I believe life was simpler back when Jon Bon Jovi thought he was a cowboy. Goodnight.
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Somewhere in-between, I beat the heck out of an Epiphone Hummingbird, posted a new chapter of Wrath’s Lament, and ventured further into Alien Isolation. I truly appreciate anyone who took a part in that. Thank you for coming along for the ride. Who knows what tomorrow brings? Follow those adventures here: As for now, it’s…
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We’re living in a world now where wars are fought with bombs…and retaliatory Lego videos. The rich can kill and insult at will with little chance of repercussions because the tech giants softened the blow. Metaphorical or virtual consequences hurt much less in the grand scheme of things. Between grand and step children, I can’t…
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The morning roller coaster came to a crash around 10am when the hammering began. I managed to fall back to sleep for a bit by using a BBC news broadcast. There’s just something about a woman’s nasally, monotone, accent-heavy voice that puts me right to sleep. The floor crew upstairs had other plans. Trump and…
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The coffee touched my lips without springing much of a wake-up call. Is this going to be another dreadful Monday? I haven’t even bothered to check the weather. I’m failing as an old man. My schedule this morning says I’ve set aside time to work on the script and a song, but I’m already being…
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I deleted my Facebook months ago, and it was the most liberating thing I’ve done since creating the damned account in the first place. Granted, I don’t know if anyone back home is on the toilet or not, but it’s a loss I’ll learn to live with. I tried a Threads account, but it never…
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I’m going to say it seven times; once for every year they said we wouldn’t make it. Seven years ago today, me and my lunch/karaoke buddy from work realized we were hopelessly in love with each other. Our entire office bailed on her housewarming party – because that’s what poons do. Not me; I cared.…
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I’ve never played well in large groups – school, military, jobs; I’ve always been the Judd Nelson. What can I say? I wanted to be an Airborne Ranger/Divebomb Danger.
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Enjoy the beautiful anticipation.
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Let’s turn on the juice and see what shakes loose. My wife is currently attempting to peel some less-than-stellar paper towels from last night’s spring rolls, and it’s a bit of a meticulous affair. For some concentration conversation, she stated that she doesn’t care for Alamo Drafthouse’s new tipping scheme. Let’s discuss. Check this out.…
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Up and waiting for the storms to begin. I need this. There’s something linking my spirit and its need to absorb cool rainfalls. Those Black Irish roots long for a home they never knew. In my travels, the two places where I felt my vibrations sync the most with those of the surrounding land were…
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I must have this. Now. Like, right now.
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Here we go again; BS in the background. Some British poon on the English version of French news – that’s a twist – is telling me things my own country’s journalists won’t touch. By the time most of us got the balls to go nose-to-nose with our goddamn religious upbringings, those who merely accepted it…
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Reflection. I do it often (too often), but rarely at one thirty in the morning. At least, not in a while. Sometimes you must take a step back to look at the broader picture. Tomorrow is the 3rd No Kings protest, and I just wanted to spend a few moments remembering what I’m protesting. It’s…
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Guitar picks in the washing machine…
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I’m going to make you click on it. Trust me, it’s the least you could do.
