So all that stuff I have to do to pay the rent and the bills and for my internet connection rose up and chomped a big raw mouthful of my ass. Hence, fewer delightful morsels of trivia posted here over the past few days. But now I’m back. With nothing to say. Getting old and boring sucks ass.
I think I’ve gotten to the point now where I don’t really want stuff anymore. I can’t think of what I’d ask for for Christmas. What I really wish someone could give me would be a whole shitload of time: I wish someone could charge up days and days on a gift card, buy a cutesy greeting card to go along with it, and drop that in my stocking.
What would I do with all the bonus time? I would buy turntables and finally learn how to match up beats in the dark with just one side of the headphones to my head. I would perfect my mid-range jumpshot. I would finish all thirty books I listed in the “Books to Read This Summer” section of my journal. I would try to become fluent in Japanese, Bengali, and Spanish. I would start learning Vietnamese in earnest. I would write the most fantastic blog entries ever, drive traffic up to my site to dizzy new heights, write a best-selling novel about my adventures, play myself in the tv-miniseries, and retire my ass to Mexico. I would write my representatives. I would volunteer. I would cook a lot more. I would read three newspapers a day. I would play soccer every day. I would pump iron and get huge. I would relearn how to play the saxophone. I would watch C-Span. I would call my family. I would travel with Mrs. Octopus. I would perfect my homemade smoothies. And I would write many more letters to my friends.
But, shit, I have to go to sleep and go to work early. Maybe in the next life.