Good Morning Bros! Happy belated birthday to my blogging bbuddies PD and Jean Louise. Welcome to the misery that is your late 20’s. I hope you like existential crises and identifying with New Girl’s Nick Miller a disturbing amount.
(Paul, please insert a funny picture of Nick Miller here)
I’m bllogging from my phone today, doing a little street journalism, staying mobile. Getting down amongst the people. Working for Tommy, which means theres a 50/50 shot I wont get paid for this gig (note to Tommy, IOUs are not accepted legal tender. I checked). I’ll probably live blog my day, which I imagine will involve a lot of sitting in cargo vans and enduring jokes about my complexion. Right now I’m going to sign off, cuz this guy sitting awwkwardly close to me on the Metro north is reading over my shoulder. Yes, you buddy. Your cardigan looks stupid, it’s going to be like 80 degrees and sunny today.
I’m in the land of the savages now… Jersey. I’m doing the best I can to blend, but they’ll find me out eventually, like a bear searching for trail mix in a poorly secured bear bag. We’re on the jersey shore now, I have vague memories of being drunk down here. I may have puked on someone. But now I’m sober, painfully sober, and Jersey is no place to be sober.
I have this persistent fantasy where I am a survivor of the apocalypse. It’s me and a dog wandering the blighted suburban wastes. The cause of the apocalypse is left non descript, but it’s an ELE. The actuall reality behind that fantasy is a nightmare, and the idea that everyone I knnow and love has been lost to some existential threat. Intellectually I know it’s horrible, but some part of me still says… hey, it wouldn’mt be the end of the world. I guess it’s because it would just be one giant reset button, and it wwould free me from all but the most basic responsibilities. Am I the only one who thinks about this?
So Private Manning was found not guilty of Treason, so we won’t be able to lynch him in a potter’s field, but he IS still facing 130 years in jail. And judging by his current accommodations he’ll spend that time alone and naked, unable to sleep for prolonged periods of time. All under the guise of preventing him from killing himself, because we wouldn’t want that, now would we?
Good night Moon
Good night City, with your hot garbage smells
Good night CitiBike and your influx of inexperienced bikers
Good Night Bradley Manning, Don’t sleep for more than five minutes outside of your allotted sleeping hours
Good Night Tommy, with your flashbacks to ‘Nam
Good Night Blog