i'm totally addicted to the very thought that someone out there, anywhere in the world can be reading the stupid things i write down. it's like subtle orgasms.

i hope that one day i never wake up and realize i only dreamt i had this awesome brother. that i only imagined one for that one dream, and i'm actually an only child. that's a sad, sad thought. that'd be way worse than when i wake up and realize that the really cool girl i had a crush on just a moment ago doesn't exhist.

here's what i think and wholeheartedly believe. never trust anyone that prefers creamy peanut butter over the crunchy kind. the same goes for people who like black liccorice. there just isn't any reason for people to like those things.

on the marta train to school i use the windows as mirrors so i can look at people undetected. i've seen a man hold his toungue in the most innocently disgusting way one can hold a toungue while reading a book. it was all curled up against his upper lip, almost touching his nose. what kind of way is that to express intrest in good reading? i once saw what colonel sanders would look like if he worked out and had biker tattoos up and down his arms. one woman had this crazy far-off sort of look, and she kept getting up and moving to the seat next to hers, then back again. and she wore an orange turban and was white and kind of pretty except she was in her late thirties/early forties. and she mumbled nervously to herself constantly. sometimes as if she were talking to someone next to her. when the train stopped at the end of the line she didn't show any signs of knowing she had to get off. i asked her if she were alright and knew that this was the final stop. she asked me how to get to Grady Memorial Hospital. I told her to go all the way back south and get off at Five Points. she nodded her head, but i knew she didn't really listen. as i walked to my car i regretted not giving offering her a ride back downtown. just like that one time the bum was sitting outside the station in the pouring rain and i wanted to throw my umbrella out the window for him to have, but i didn't. i don't use umbrellas, so why didn't i give him the one i have?

i'm so happy about the possibility that someone else will be reading this.

i got me some big plans for tonight, let me tell you.

i've got a 40 of malt liquer in the fridge, so i'm gonna strap on my Death-Proof Boots, go out to the log in the woods next to my house, and drink. maybe yell at the moon a little.

life seems very good at the moment.

there was a small public outcry over my retirement. maybe i just won't make this an every day thing. and i'll keep it short.

My Advice. Never forget that your gallbladder is there inside your chest (unless it isn't, and you'll know if it isn't) and it's working hard for you. It does important things that maybe you'll never understand. But it chugs away despite your lack of appreciation, assistance, or appraisal.

Ignore the sirens. They're for someone who forgot about their gallbladder.

thank you.

i'm quitting the show. ratings suck and i'm just not up for it anymore. i don't even know what it's all about, this show.

maybe i'll start it up again sometime later, but it just isn't funny or any good really.

so bye.

in one corner of my backyard i am digging a hole. i've been working on it for some time now and it's pretty deep. i'd say like thirty feet or so with a four foot diameter (that's a two foot radius).

one day it will be very deep. if i were to write up a list of hobbies, digging holes would be one of them.

i have no plans for said hole. but having a really deep hole in one's back yard always sounds like a good idea. so much you can do with one.

i think maybe i'm nixxing the idea of the french pirate. i hurt my back doing the happy wiggle dance the other night, and it hasn't really gotten better.

maybe my life now isn't that bad. but this seasonal depression sucks. i sure would like to move to the beach. maybe i'll just be me, only on the beach.

i sometimes wonder why i'm not on the beach all the time. i have no good answer for that.

i have decided that i will discard my current life and take up a new one. gone will be the goggles, cape, death-proof boots, and lofty ideals of educating and entertaining the masses. i am taking up the career of French Pirate. i will wear a fancy red and black shirt, and probably draw a cool curly mustache on my face with a marker. i will constantly be eating chinese food out of a take out box with an oversized spoon, and will do my Happy Wiggle Dance for the children when they are happy.

there will be much yelling of simple French phrases. things like "au revoir! au revoir! j't aime! Je voudrais cette sandwich!"

it will be a grand new life.

my new performance art piece:

i'm wearing a white body suit, skin tight, kind of glittery. i stand on one foot and focus all my attentention on a small red apple that sits on a pedestal not too far away. i begin to lift my extra foot into the air as i humm a sad tune.

suddenly the sad tune snaps into a regular sort of tune one would hum during the day and the apple starts to shake. shake like a margarita. i will the apple to continue it's shaking and progress on its journey into becoming a very large replica of the Starship Enterprise, which it does. and it tastes like a great apple, all ripe and juicy.

come on kids, up on stage! take a bite out of fruity-tasting memerobilia!

and when the performance is done and all the kids are bloated to the point of unconsiousness with trekkie apple. i snap my fingers three times and disappear in a puff of smoke.

we cut to the segment in which i teach the elderly to shave their armpits using a cheese grater.

this one dude on the bus to the studio today tried to take my goggles away. at first i saw him laughing at me and mocking the way i walk. i tried to ignore him, but when i wasn't looking he pulled the googles right off my face. quick like a bunny i jumped up and pulled on his hair. he was a little guy and i'm pretty big, so i think he was scared. and i was pulling his hair so hard. i was kind of nervous with this whole violent confrontation thing, and all i managed to stutter out was "gimme back my goggles." he gave them back real quick and scuttled back to his seat. i sat down real quick and put my goggles away in my pocket. for the first time in a long time i was kind of ashamed to wear them. i hate that.

so now is the segment of the show called "Effigy." I've constructed a crude representation of all the ills in the world, and we get a chance to show those ills what we think of them. and live on TV!

so i invite the children down to dismember, slice, cut, rip, tear, urinate, deficate, spit, chew, punch, kick, drown, belittle, gouge, puncture, cleave, behead, disembowel, beat, bludgeon, or inflame our effigy of badness. go ahead!

and that's all i have scheduled for the show today. it'll be good times. and we'll all wear our goggles.

and the celebrations are over. they weren't that much to begin with, but they were nice.

but now i feel like i'm standing on the edge of one of those big voids, like a canyon, only i'm wearing a blindfold. and i'm all alone. either that or everyone else around is also wearing a blindfold. god damn it. i'm tired.

tired for a new year.