I fear nothing except the stuff in the back of my mind.

It's two am and I know I won't be falling asleep for a couple of hours yet.

I'm sitting in bed, in the dark, furiously pounding on the keys, half afraid to look to see if I've typed anything of consequence.

I'm not a monkey.
I don't want to be a monkey.

That was just something that needed saying.
Monkeys mean nothing to me.

I used to do all my best writing at three in the morning, maybe I should go beat off for an hour and then come back and give it another try.

Yeah, I actually typed "furiously pounding on the keys".

How did Kerouac do it?
I would have spent all my time making sure that the teletype paper wasn't bunching up.

One of these days I'm really going to climb some old hairy ass mountain and scream my head off.

I think I'm going to change the name of this blog.

I'm trying to make a post, but I can't think of anything to write about.
I think it might be because I have the light on, and the ultra-violet rays (don't laugh) from the light is sterilizing my brain.



Ennui in such a young woman is tragic thing.
It makes me want to weep.
Or scratch the insect bite on my wrist.
Or go bowling.
Or walk and chew gum.
Fuck, it's hot.
Let's just leave it at that.
Cue the Kinks.

When I woke up I thought I was Hemingway.

Then I read his wikipedia entry and realized he was still dead.



Still, just for a second, a milli-second, I was a literary giant.

Just how awesome is Tina Chen

And other things to say when you've run out of things to say.
Seriously Tina, we need to get together for drinks and bask in your awesomeness.

So it goes.

You're cool and cred like Fogerty, I'm Elvis Presley in the 70's.

So, I'm sitting on the edge of my bed watching a Chilean martial arts film on premium cable
Ok, I just turned the movie off, but I'm still sitting on the edge of the bed and my feet are dangling, yeah, I'm six foot three and my feet are dangling ...
What do I do now?
I know I'll go to my playlist,
Boz's Playlist
Ok, my current favorite song on my play list is I Make the Dough, You Get the Glory by Kathleen Edwards.



Fuckin' Canadians, you gotta love them.
Should I post a pic from my shitty netbook webcam?
Ok, I'll try.
Hold on.

Boz By Flashlight and Shitty Webcam



Whoa, I just got dizzy.
Ok, I'm better. I think it's my Family Dollar reading glasses.

Man, I could do this all night.
Hold on, it's the Doors doing Soul Kitchen.
FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
I used to lie and tell people that I had tickets to see the Doors in Detroit the weekend before I went in the air force back in March of 1969, but the concert was cancelled because the week before was when Morrison got busted for masturbating on stage in Miami.
It's not the only lie I've ever told.
It's not even the biggest lie I've ever told.
But it is the only lie I've ever told about masturbating in Miami.
I'm cool.
Catch you later.

I would do anything for you, but maybe I should qualify what I mean by anything.

Hey, thanks for dropping by.
You look good.
You look happy.
You look wise.
Me?
I'm doing ok.
I've grown a full beard, and I've ordered new eyeglasses.
And I like to sit around in my boxer shorts until mid afternoon, but I swear, I'm working on that.
I found out I have a deviated septum, how bad ass is that?
I think I'm going to go back to bed now.
Let's keep it real, ok.