…never write

I’m back at that point where people are asking me if I’m mad at them, wondering why I don’t write. I don’t fucking know. Like I said recently, sometimes the shark gets you. I can’t seen to communicate at all – I’m sittin’ here alone this eve – family gone again for a short trip […]

I’m back at that point where people are asking me if I’m mad at them, wondering why I don’t write.

I don’t fucking know. Like I said recently, sometimes the shark gets you.

I can’t seen to communicate at all – I’m sittin’ here alone this eve – family gone again for a short trip – and feeling like unplugging phones and shutting down my internet connection and just drinking myself stupid, wishing I had some sorta goofballs that’d knock me into dreamland for a good day and a half.

Maybe not blogging is the new blogging.

One thought on “…never write”

  1. Land Shark: [ muffled voice ] Mrs. Arlsbergerhh??

    Woman #2: Who?

    Land Shark: [ muffled voice ] Mrs. Johnannesburrrr??

    Woman #2: Who is it?

    Land Shark: [ muffled voice ] Flowers.

    Woman #2: Flowers? From whom?

    Land Shark: [ muffled voice ] Plumber, ma’am..

    Woman #2: I don’t need a plumber. You’re that clever shark, aren’t you?

    Land Shark: [ muffled voice ] Candygram.

    Woman #2: Candygram, my foot! Get out of here before I call the proper authorities. You’re the shark, and you know it.

    Land Shark: [ muffled voice ] I’m only a dolphin, ma’am..

    Woman #2: A dolphin? Well.. okay..

    [ she opens the door, as the shark pulls her screaming into the hallway ]

    [ dissolve to Sheriff’s Office, Matt Hooper lifts up cloth napkin covering plate, then winces and looks away ]

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