"But ah'm not afraid of dyin'. Cause I know that when I get to heaven there are gonna be these wonderful trees, and ah'm gonna climb them. But you know what? Instead of leaves and flowers, those trees are gonna have fried eggs, and delicious Virginia ham, and big heaping bowls of biscuits and sausage gravy. And one day, Sammy, you're gonna meet me there, and we're gonna climb those breakfast trees together, and it's gonna be delicious and we're gonna be happy until the end of time."


We Only Hurt The Ones We Are

I found myself reclining against a tree this morning, facing the bridge and the lake, watching the boats and cars speed through the band of sunlight bouncing off the water and etching my retinas when it occurred to me: my blog has sucked (more than ever) this whole year. I can't do anything about it now. I soldier on.

Recently I was presented with one of those days when I knew I was cashing in all that karma I'd been squirreling away, but I was firmly convinced it was worth every instance. I highly recommend this, if you can swing it. I feel Reborn In Our Lord Jesus Christ, minus the
In, Our, Lord, Jesus, and Christ.
The emotional hangover is a bitch though.

I'm embarking on a small mental experiment. My task is to identify the one thing I want most in any given week and deny myself that one thing, and nothing else. The objective is not masochism so much as it is to discover if I can be honest enough with myself to identify what I truly want, even if it means being denied it. Just a few psychological biopsies to root out some leftover demons. I suppose it all falls under the umbrella of masochism. If anything, it's preemptive masochism, a fingernail scrape now to ward off the blade later. I haven't firmly committed the term "thing" to the intangible or material yet, though I'm leaning toward the former. The latter just seems shallow.

I really liked The Departed.

Listening To: Cat Power - Lived In Bars