Oh my. I have just seen the calender. Peeking out of the corner of a drawer a saw a small month riddled page reading "October". It had been so long, I had been doing so much, that I didn't recognize the term "October" as a month. I thought it could be a particularly fruity variety of marmalade. In case you don't know, marmalade is a lot like jam.
It has been a long, soulful, time away from this here web log. Though embarassed to admit. I must say that Sergei is right. I am coming back in a slightly more feminine form. As a New Year's Resolution I have begun to wax my eye brows. This isn't for me. Lord knows I'm not vain enough to give a hoot and a half about my appearance, but frequent visits to the woman called my Grandmother, have brought a disgusting amount of chatter about the bushiness of my eyebrows. She was in Vietnam. She was a Military Nurse put right in the shit of it all. Two weeks ago she took a good long look at my eye brows and wondered where the Napalm was. As a result I have begun to wax, pluck, and shape. I didn't realize it was a gay thing. I didn't realize it was a feminine thing. I suppose it is. I suppose it might prompt your local flamboyant mail man to drop off a bushel of love letters scented of Mustard. Being the masculine figure of machismo that I am, it brings me great shame to be so tainted, so able to be loved. Sergei, you have tapped into my soul, the source of insecurites, the St. Louis Arc above my irises.
I am also more feminine because I've been spitting up blood due to a severe case of bronchitis. I call this Mouth Menstruation.
I haven't been doing much lately. I have been hiding in my shame and avoiding windows, grandmother, and of course the Mail Man. This ritual has taken on a near religious tone for me.
The extreme hermitism has prompted an internal renaissance of the richest and most voluptuos sort (I JUST DESCRIBED MYSELF AS VOLUPTUOUS!!! OH NOES!!!). Unable to leave, unable to stand, I have found a great deal of satisfaction nearest to the ground.
What have I been doing? The obvious. Crawling, kneeling, shimmying, army crawls, and staunch avoidance of my dog. This Doberman's strongest muscle is his tongue. I have only been eating peanuts and the dog wants his salt, anytime and always.
On the ground I have managed to...
-Play three quarters of Wide Reciever in the Capital One Bowl
-Found a new recipe for Chex Mix
-Deep fry a pizza
-Write a letter to Rick James each and day, offering an extra room, in the off chance th at he decides to y'know be alive again.
-Chased the Roomba. I will be honest. You have not lived until you chase a Roomba.
-Gave my end table stiff competition. I can stay as a table for up to five hours.
-Added "stay as a table for up to five hours" to the skills section of my resume.
-Drew a picture of Salman Rushdie as "Salmon Rushdie" Again, you haven't lived until you've done this.
-Fired a Bebe gun straight up at the ceiling.
-Frantically ducking out of the way from a stray Bebe.
-Building a fort out of blankets.
-Hanging out in a fort of blankets, utterly utterly nude.
-Atrophied
-Making the Picture at the head of this blog. Seriously. His name is David Grogan. He is a professional bodybuilder. I call him "Mr. Sausages".
See, isn't this why we're American. By doing nothing I have managed to do everything. Slacking isn't slacking, it's finding time to do the things we've always wanted...like atrophying.
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