Not much to report. Foundered myself on chicken thighs and mashed potatoes at lunch and wasn’t worth a damn for several hours later. Amber left for work and my sister invited me over for white people taco night. I’m of two minds on tacos: I either want the authentic Mexican street truck version with fresh corn tortillas and Al Pastor with grilled pineapples in a homemade spicy salsa, or I want to total redneck trash version where you just get the kit from the store, ground the beef, and let the packets of spice do the heavy lifting. I grew up before we had actual Mexican restaurants, so Taco Bell was the standard and it’s been very good to me.

Bain played with my niece and they were very cute. Bain didn’t want to leave even though by his own admission he was very tired. He crawled up in my nieces bed and said “dadda go sleep!” I said “let’s go home and go to bed!” He said no and then laid down on her pillow and pretended to snore. Smart little s**t, that boy (video is above. It made me laugh for hours

Gotta go out of town to work on 3 different projects this weekend which feels me with anxiety. I know I’ll have a blast once I’m there, but I really hate leaving my family and routine. Pitiful of me, I know, considering the line of work I’m in, but hey, we can’t help our feelings. I have always lived under the impression that I’ll never retire because a.) I love what I do and B.) I don’t make enough money at present to save for retirement

That never bothered me though. I’ve romanticized dying on stage. If I did that, people would have no choice but to pretend they liked me. I’d be a legend. People who’d just as soon spit on my face would be at my funeral saying “boy they didn’t make em like him. Loved the business. Committed to the art

They’d then try and f**k my wife before the hot dishes were served

I see the appeal of retirement though. I still think I’d write my stories because as it should be clear to you all, I certainly don’t do it for the money. Not entirely at least. I like expressing myself. That was sorta frowned upon growing up where I did, which made it all the more attractive to me

I was able to trade some old homegrown (both flower and edibles) to a feller for an unfair amount of Xanax (unfair to him, I got hooked up!) which means that I’m about to have a sleep that will be nothing short of ethereal and I’m buzzing with excitement counting down the minutes until they kick in and envelope my further in the 13 blanket pallet I currently have spread out on the floor

Don’t do drugs, kids. Unless you have a good reason or just really want some and you happen to have a buddy who has them. I’d hate to disrupt the flow of our little cities main economic import. I’m a good citizen if I’m anything

More later

PS (and this is the drugs talking) I love you all and I wish you could tell how perfectly heavy my blanket seems

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