Look at the size of that cat!

I’m still telling your jokes.

In the past couple of years, I’ve started saying Riboflavin is my favorite word.

You’re the closest thing to a Muppet humanity has ever grown.

That’s a compliment, I think.

You can’t give something you don’t have and you can’t have something you don’t give.  I’m really, really trapped by my own situation.  Please send me some good news.  Please.

  No, it’s not your responsibility to send me good news.  I was just asking for a favor that I don’t expect to receive.  I’m sad, not stupid.

You’re going to need to click this violin:

Two hours later: I can’t sleep.  I’m allergic to cats.  In English I told you I didn’t expect to be long lived, yet here I am… We live in a time when a single person can build tools that raise a fortune… and I’m wasting it doing the crap I’m doing.  I realized that more than 300 working hours have elapsed since I proposed someone invest so I could spend 300 working hours building Project Smiley.  Something could be said for trying to concentrate when everything is up in the air, but I think it’s pretty obvious nothing will be done.  I expect failure, so some parts of me look at spending time doing anything other than enjoying the last days of summer (the last days before being homeless again) as a complete waste of privacy and simulated autonomy.    I used to be a go-to guy that people trusted to pay $150/hr for programming work — it was worth it to them because I didn’t mess around… and I did things correctly the first time.  I earned twice that on another project, later — even AFTER everything fell apart.  I’m not bragging, I’m trying to illustrate the trust.  And now, people balk at $15/hr… The fun and excitement of spending $200/hr in a casino has a more likely payoff in their thinking than does paying me $15/hr for whatever… I’m truly a crazy person.  Anyone half-way sane would turn that disgusting feeling into a need for some Show Me State.

So, kids, you may wonder why this is still here?  Anyone with some sense would remove this blog.

Do you know how depressing it is to get letters from attorneys who represent some fund that bought some debt you might have had at one point that totals this five figure sum, which you might owe, probably do, but they’re willing to settle the debt for four figures which total more than half of what you made over the last 12 months? How many would you want to receive in a month before you decide that it’s just hopeless?

Obviously documenting my weaknesses while not providing any evidence of work is professional suicide.  This blog and my non-existent work history guarantee I cannot work for anyone doing about anything.

So, it’s sink or swim.  I’ve always expected to drown, frankly… and so… I get what I expect.

The only time you know you’re going to get what you expect is when you expect to fail.

But you know, there’s something comforting about failing because it’s what you wanted.  Achieving failure is completely within my control… and I realize I don’t feel like much is in my control.

AND IT’S BEEN ANOTHER HOUR.  Still can’t sleep.  You know what?  I’m taking more out of the world than I’m putting in… and I’m not talking about some ecosystem, tree-hugging crap, when I say “the world” I mean people… the better part of Soylent Green… the glue that holds our little society together… the world.  When you have former life-long friends that can’t trade email with you… you’ve done more harm than good.  Oh, it’s not the brilliance of your bullshit that drove them away… it was the smell.

I’m so tired.  My right eye itches… both eyes are red.  My nose is running.  What is it in the Fall??  Ragweed?  I saw someone on Facebook complaining about ragweed.  Me too.

I haven’t had a haircut in months.

I wear the same shirt everyday… out of spite.  I noticed the other day that two holes have appeared on the back.  How do you wear holes into the fabric of a shirt — nowhere near a seam — without doing some sort of labor?? Amazing.

If you hug trees… that’s cool.  If you want to save trees… that’s cool.  If you’re putting spikes in trees, you’re  a terrorist.  How’d you like it if loggers put tacks in your Birkenstocks?  I guess that’s not really the same threat, is it?  Ok, tacks with some sort of deadly bacteria on them…   I just don’t understand killing people to save trees.  Surely there’s a better way.

Dear Yes Men, Who Are Saving The World — I’m with ya on corporate responsibility.  I’m not sure impersonating officials from these companies is the most honorable way, but it doesn’t sound like you try to skirt responsibility for your actions…  it’s like civil disobedience… Do what you want, but take your licks.  It looks like you have a great defense team against the US Chamber of Commerce.  Good luck!!  I’m not sold on the whole CO2 thing.  Sorry.  But, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t stop using fossil fuels anyway.  I don’t believe CO2 is a conspiracy.

You know, my parents were probably sure we’d get into a nuclear WWIII…

I was sure we’d all die of AIDS.

Now you crazy kids are sure we’re all going to bake.

Human beings are going to be around until a big rock falls from the sky.

Another 30 minutes… 5:30am and still not sleeping.  I like how you write, “…it’s not the brilliance of your bullshit that drove them away… it was the smell.”  Fuck, Joe, write another 10,000 lines like that… about something… anything… doesn’t matter if anyone likes it… you like it… and it’s vague enough that people can read whatever they want into it.  Good writing, I think, is about writing as specifically as possible except when you want to say something shocking… like when you want to mention balls, anyone’s balls.  You know, I don’t think I’ve ever written about anyone else’s balls.  My mother had a pair of brass balls in a little case on her desk.

OK, 7:40…  I’m still awake…  My face hurts.  I want to live in New York, but only on Manhattan and only if I don’t need a daily job to do it.  I love people and I love walking, but I don’t want to have to fight people while I’m walking to get somewhere by a time chosen by someone else.  I guess I’m saying I want to be John Lennon.  Oh wait, I’m already too old to be John Lennon.  Sorry, Satan.  No, I don’t want to be John Lennon.

I would get completely run over and squished in New York… or, perhaps, everything would be difficult enough to keep my attention.  It’s not that Shawnee doesn’t keep my attention… I can walk two blocks into downtown and back and see a total of 12 people… Oh, Shawnee is very nice.

I’ve never really wanted to trade places with anyone else.

I doubt in New York you can talk to your landlord and explain a few things and apologize and stay in your apartment.  It didn’t work in Tulsa.

Six more days in October…  Then two months of rent are due.

I hate the discussion of money.  Oh, hate is a strong word.  In my mother’s family, money was never really discussed… it wasn’t polite conversation…  In my father’s family, Grandma herself taught us about money… saving money… saving food… how it was when she was young…  I guess my mother’s parents do tell great stories about how it was when they were young…

Relative to both sets of grandparents, I’m a loser… Shit, relative to most people within 100 yards of me right now, I’m a loser.

Both sets of grandparents had (or have) serious cases of work-their-asses-off…  I think because I found the fifth grade so easy that I just stopped trying.  Heck, I cheated through most of the fourth grade anyway… never did any homework, but the person who graded it (me) always scored me around a B.  Heck, I don’t even know if the teacher told my parents when I got caught…

This isn’t anyone’s fault but mine.  ๐Ÿ™‚

I need tasks that are extremely difficult, but that can be completed in one run….  For instance, writing something that needs to be done… quickly… and do nothing else until it is done.  I especially like ONE DAY projects…

Curing cancer is obviously out of the question.

I still contend there’s something just way to convenient about the math surrounding the physical universe… and that time seems to slow down because everything that SEEMS is based on observation… and that speed of light thing… BUT.. I’m not going to duke it out with the physics geniuses in four days or less… I’m thinking that might take actual study… for years.

I can’t imagine that Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy or Slapstick were written in a day.  I can picture Adams sitting a giggling all afternoon over one cool paragraph… possibly ringing a friend or two to read it aloud.

I’ve been living on microwave popcorn and cream of tomato soup.  The people of the great State of Oklahoma bought me the popcorn.  #4 brought me the soup.  I have no idea where she got it.  There’s really no telling…

I could get different food today…

The luxury of fresh food and space to prepare it and space to sit down and eat it with friends and/or family… wow…

People who are living paycheck to paycheck discuss money with each other more than people I’ve known who are not.  It’s not considered impolite — it’s like working together to solve a puzzle… One person finds a way to get something to work out — for instance, where to get a used tire that will work — and shares it with another… So the next person can add the experience to their memory bank in case the need for a tire pops up.

It just goes around and around.

My daughter turns 14 next month.  She’ll probably graduate from college in 8 years.  Hopefully she’ll be doing better than I am…  ๐Ÿ™‚

Absolute outcomes don’t make any sense anyway.   A person should strive to do a little better than the day before, I think.  Of course, then the question becomes what IS better… that depends on your goals.  If you’re living in the middle of a tug of war, then the whole notion of improvement means nothing.  I doubt anyone’s read enough of what I’ve written to even know what I’m talking about.

Save Ferris.  What?

Yes, I know it appears I’m wrapped up in my own BS.  Here’s something more real:


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