3 a.m.

11 Nov

from July 16, 2007

             Why am I doing this at 3 am? First off, I get a lot of typos when I write this late and/or early, take your pick, so I get good at using the delete key. Secondly, summer must really agree with me because I’m sleeping late, going to bed late, and generally fucking up my biological clock so this seems like noon right now. Except for the vague fuzziness when I try to think hard I feel fine. Sort of a low grade Mr. Know-It-All sort of feeling, if you get what I’m going for here. (And you probably don’t since maybe I’m making too much sense. Here is what I mean: I feel fuzzy and slightly wooly in the head since I am mentally tired (but not physically- oh damn, here I get into the parentheses thing again. You (the readers) must hate that. Shit I did it again. Sorry. Give me a few lines to write my  way back out.) Anyway, I feel slightly hung over, which I am not. At all. But Mr. Know-It-All is drunk, hung over, whatever all the time. Hence, feeling as I do, (Heh heh, “hence.”) ( Sorry about the parentheses.) I must feel about a tenth as bad as I imagine that guy feels all the time.)  And that must have made some sense, right? That’s the third good thing about doing this so late and/or early, take your pick- any typos, nonsense, at least not the intentional nonsense, or errors in judgment/common sense/syntax will be blamed on the lateness/earliness of the hour, take your pick. And I read that back, as I am wont to do (who the Hell says “wont” in 2007?) I find two things- I am starting to use slashes about as indiscriminately as I do parentheses, for which I apologize in advance, and that this paragraph needs to be edited. Which I am not going to do. I tend to feel that everything I write needs and editor, if for no other reason than to say “what the fuck is wrong with you?” and I refuse to bother. Oh- another thing: I am dropping the F-bomb like the Taliban blowing up civilians in the Mid-East . Blame it on the hour.

            And you, Mr. and/or Mrs. (see?) Astute Reader, may have spotted another thing. (Or two. One of which is that I am starting sentences, yay,  and paragraphs too, with “and.” I have two things to say about that. One- shut up. Two- what about the “yay” semi-faux Elizabethan dialect? I dunno. Did I mention I started this at 3 am?) Like I was saying before I digressed, (take that, Liz), I said that Mr. and/or Mrs. Astute Reader, who celebrate their 18th wedding anniversary next month, may have noticed something. I then digressed, (again, take that, Liz), and I am now going to reveal what the aforementioned eagle-eyed Astute Reader couple, Charles and Gladys, father of Libby and Roy, owner of Shep the unimaginatively-named sheepdog, have spotted: I am indenting.

            Oh, it is not unheard of for me to indent. Indeed, there is an example of it at the beginning of this paragraph. But my blogs have an internal logic. (“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ve read this shit. Unless it has to do with a big ape or some knob I don’t see any logic.” You also say some other nastier things that I won’t print here in order to save your reputation. But to one of you will remain nameless, I say- just name the time and place.) Ooooookaaaaay…… back to internal logic. I have some. I won’t reveal it all, a good magician must retain his aura of mystery, but I will tell you this much- it is an art of distraction. Watch the hand that isn’t waving the wand. Oh, jeez, sorry, that’s magic. I was going to tell you about my blogs.

          (Another indent, and more parentheses, man am I on a stupid roll. I can smell a slash coming up soon!) When I indent, I am, generally, drum roll please, (a lot of commas here), writing a bit more seriously than usual. Another hint is the general lack of capital letters in the subject. Which I haven’t written yet. So we’ll see. “But,” you cry, “this isn’t serious at all. You’re wasting my time again. Why do you write this shit?” I think the better question is “Why do you read this shit?” I know that the attraction for the ladies is obvious, but the must be something more.

             Let’s take a look at my friends list, for that is where the trouble lie. (Again with the formal syntax? (And didn’t I promise a slash a while back?)) (That double parenthesis back there is no mistake- go back and see.) A caveat here- the order that my friends are in is not really any indication of where you rank. Some of it is, some of it isn’t. Don’t sweat it, it doesn’t matter. Another caveat- one of my friends may not actually be a friend and may actually be a fictional creation. I’ll leave it to you figure it out, but I’ll give you a hint- she’s a looker!

            So you’ve looked at my list, guessed who isn’t real, wondered why there are so few, and come back here. Personally, I wouldn’t have bothered. Anyway, what could be the problem here, you wonder. I know you’re wondering. I can smell it. Well, it isn’t so much a problem as some situations. Specifically three/four situations. (That slash is perfectly accurate. It may look like I threw it in like I always do, but not here. That one is scary accurate.

             Now there are six people, three/four situations, and you are one of my friends. Logic dictates (sound like Spock here) that the odds of you being one of the situations is pretty good- you have a 4/6 chance of it being you. (Is that right? Did I get the odds right? I can reduce that down to 2/3 chance, right?) Well, to quote a movie quote- never tell me the odds. (First one to name the movie and character wins. I’ll come up with a prize later.) But I can reduce the odds. Ignoring the fictional friend, and some may consider me a fictional friend, not everybody reads this. Out of six, I think only four read my stuff. And out of the four, one of you falls in the odds-defying category of not having a situation. Figure out the odds yourself. ‘Cause I sure can’t. And hey- paragraphs are getting shorter here on page two. It’s very nice here in page two land. Page Two’sville, I think I’ll call it. But since I wrote this in Word and Myspace doesn’t have pages here this’ll just be more nonsense but trust me- it made some kind of sense when I wrote it. Time check- 4:01 am, and man can you tell how late and/or early this is.

              I’m not going to do it, by the way. You think I will, but I won’t. you even expect it. But I won’t Uh uh, not me. (That last, by the way, was a quote from Paulie to Henry in Goodfellas, my favorite movie ever this month.) I am not, and I will remain steadfast, I really will, not explain the situations. It wouldn’t be fair. Sure, I could say that one of the situations involves some steamy, kinky sex with a friend, but what good would that do? Besides, it isn’t true, dammit. (But I bet it pricked you up when you read that.) No, seriously, there is no reason to air dirty, or clean for that matter, laundry in semi-public. Suffice it to say that these things are on my mind.

             I just reread this and man, I spent an hour on this. A whole friggin’ hour. You probably won’t take more than a few minutes reading this shit. The fewer the better. The smart move is to just delete this and try to sleep. I really should. Time check- 4:11 am. I wrote nearly two pages to get you up to the climax, which was the last paragraph, and all I really did when you got there was fart in your faces. One can only hope that, as Odysseus found out, it is the journey, not the destination. (And was Odysseus pissed about that journey. Away from home for twenty years, fighting a war for ten, lost at sea for ten, all of his friends dead, his mother killed by her own hand, his son grown up without him, his kingdom looted, his skin parched by the sun and no good souvlaki anywhere.) So blame it all on the lateness/earliness of the hour. I don’t know what I’m doing. As opposed to all the times I do know what I am doing and the blogs still come out this way.

             BTW, or by the way, use whichever one you like, it’s all the same to me, I never use that thing at the bottom to say what I’m reading or whatever. I just picked that book up today and since it sounds all literary-like I thought I’d put it on. If the book sucks I’ll let you know.



            Time check- 4:22 am.

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