remember that lame expression? or "life is hard. deal with it?" if you need it, i will give you 30 seconds to puke.
why am i blogging at this moment? the ballads of ben webster and the cool sound of coleman hawkins await while i sit at my local library. when the new webster's dictionary comes out, don't forget to check for the picture of yours truly under the word "insanity."
i must remember to only get bored with a board game when i am ahead. otherwise, the entire contribution i make to my household may be temporarily nullified. furthermore, i will get frustrated, and i will have to pee every 5 minutes, and i won't fall asleep until 3 in the morning. alonzo, it is no fun to be in your shaq under those conditions. eventually, you begin to wilt under the pressure, because you are not a kidd anymore. in time, the magic in your relationship returns, and the tension you were feeling flies away like a bird. and then, a feeling of peace comes back to you, which, is of course, just what the doctor j ordered. it is unfortunate that we sometimes have to wade through rocky marciano moments. i will have you know that aaron pryor to this tension, all was going orson welles, and appears to be going david wells again. otis, i guess it is the same old birdsong and dance, but in the end, the nets gain is mine. for on my own, i would likely be stuck eating frozen chicken patti labelle's, for i am not much of a sam cooke. life would not be a marvin gaye old time for me. furthermore, the only connection i would have to good lovin is when the tune of that name by the rascals would play on the radio. i would likely be a drifters, but even i would get board with a walk after a while. i may fiddle up on a roof, but that ain't livin, that ain't livin. someone wood invariably nick me with the question "what's goin on?" i would likely mutter something about "fish filled with mercury records" and blame "the politicians up in dinah washington" who "we need to get rid of before they get rid of us." eventually, i would be put in a larry holmes. my diet, heavy on sugar ray leonard thanks to the cooking of mrs. robinson, would help me graduate to an advanced stage of diabetes. even a taste of honey bruce would not cure me. how sweet it is to visualize such a compelling future. thank god that i have the temptations to use just my imagination. for i am rolling, because i have the stones to think as my papa does.
2008? remember y2k? what shit that was. just when was the world supposed to end? eastern time, pacific time, archaic thyme? so the east coast blows at 12 while laid back cali residents are chilling at 9? gordy, howe would that have worked. orr, bobby, may be something else would have happened? i want to be there when the world comes to an end. i want to see which song spielberg chooses for the finale. can we get celine dion, or perhaps mariah will carey on and perform for this titanic event? oprah could host the end of the world party and help us all feel better by giving away various trinkets. then, the doctor could make us phil better by telling us that the problem is with each of us as individuals, and not with things like "the system," or "the environment," which are merely extensions of our tension and personal lives. sounds like fun, huh? i can't wait.
nucular war, anyone? iran away from thinking about it for a long time, but we will be fucked whether we contemplate the stormy weather that awaits us or not.
happy new year.
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