Twenty minutes to midnight on a Thursday.
Lately I’ve been conking out at midnight. It’ll probably happen again tonight. I’ll type until it does.
They say the Devil Winds will return this weekend. It’ll be weirdly hot in the daytime, desert-cold at night. Everything that happens now must be looked at as if Global Warming is to blame. Who knows? I can honestly say that I won’t be around to suffer the worst of it. I’m too old. You kids, though — you should be screwing in more CFL‘s, and getting out of those big SUV’s. Ride your bikes to work. I’ve thought about riding a bicycle to work. But it’s fifteen miles. I might be able to handle that much of a ride, but I’d get to work all sweaty and wearing those tight little bicycle shorts. I don’t have locker room facilities there, so I’d look silly all day, and smell, too. It would be a good smell, though. The honest sweat of a hard-peddlin’ man. What the hell — nothing I could do now could make them think I’m any kookier.
The band is taking up most of my non-sleeping, non-eating, non day-gigging hours. I’m having fun, but I miss my bloggin’ buddies. In some ways I’ve missed them since the beginning. By them, I mean “you”. Maybe I’m lonelier than I think I am. Would that be possible? To think you’re not lonely, but actually be lonely? I know I never seem to get enough of people, even though they are maddening, unmanageable creatures. I’m certainly getting my fill of real live people these days, because I am an Entertainer. I sing for them. The ones who don’t like it never tell me. I only hear from the ones who enjoy it, so my head’s getting real big. Sometimes it expands so much that I have to lie down and think of Joe Dimaggio for a while, so it will subside enough to let me get through the door. Ha ha, just kidding. I have to think of Sandy Koufax.
I’ve been a blogger for three years now. I heard about blogs and I started reading them in the summer of 2004, and I developed an unnatural fascination with this one blogger chick named Melissa, and the Presidential election was coming up, which I thought I had important things to say about, so in October of that year I signed up with Blogger and started posting. I was unable to influence the outcome of the election, and I never got anywhere useful with Melissa, who turned out to be sort of an illusion anyway. The following year I wrote a political protest song expressing my feelings about the election (and associated crap), and I’m still going to write a song about Melissa, try to get a little closure there. President Bush will have his presidential library, and Melissa will be immortalized in song.
I think they’d both like that, going forward.