I've been writing this blog for almost three years now. I quit.
No, not really. That was just a cheap attempt to get you to leave a comment something along the lines of, "Jim, I'm so glad that was a joke. I love you, more than life itself, and if you stopped giving me your stuff to read every day, I'd go and throw myself off of a cliff." Let me begin again.
I've been writing this blog for almost three years now. During that time, I've written some things I'm proud to have written. As a matter of fact, there's a handy link to those pieces over on the sidebar. It is cleverly entitled Some Stuff I'm Proud To Have Written. I have also, however, come up with some things that appear to make a lie out of all the times I've written about my past drug usage not having any lasting adverse effect. Yesterday was just such a case.
Now, some of you seemed to enjoy yesterday's offering. I'm thankful for that, and I won't deny that it had it's good spots. Upon closer inspection, though, I've decided that it has little chance of ending up in the previously-mentioned "Stuff I'm Proud Of" section. And, since I have nothing else prepared for today, I'm going to tell you how it came about, with explanation as to why it is not one of my favorites.
We have no television this week. We have been without TV since last Saturday.
Non-sequitur? No. You see, without TV to occupy my brain and keep it out of trouble, the damn thing gets up on it's hind legs and looks around for other ways to entertain itself. Books are good, so I've been reading more than usual. Music is helpful, of course. A really good session on the bass keeps my mind working in non-harmful ways, and listening to some tasty jazz or metal is good for an hour-or-so of no idiocy on my part. Conversation with MY WIFE is a pleasure, and the parts without conversation are pretty good, too, but she's not always around. And therein lies the problem.
I've used drugs, often. No secret there. I don't use any illegal ones these days, though. When I did, however, it was because I was keeping my brain occupied. My brain enjoyed those forays into unexplored realms. With the first whiff of a joint or snort of cocaine, it yelled "Road Trip!" and claimed shotgun for itself. Oftentimes, it ended up leaning out of the window into the breeze with it's tongue hanging out, not unlike a big friendly dog. But it was usually just fun, and stimulating enough in itself to keep me out of further trouble.
TV, in many ways, serves the same purpose. It sends my brain on a vacation. Granted, it's sometimes a really shitty vacation, with rain and crummy food and a hard bed, but it's enough to keep me from doing other things.
With no TV this past week, I sat down and wrote more often. With no TV, my brain was not dulled. With no TV to give it stultifying doses of inane situation comedies, unintelligent game shows, news it couldn't use at all, and hideous reality series full of people who deserve to be dismembered slowly and then fed to bears, my brain made up it's own ridiculous shows, culminating in the type of crude silliness you saw here yesterday.
(I've got to tell you something. The reference to oral sex with myself was bad enough as given, but you should have seen it before I edited it. If I had put that out here for public consumption, today I'd be in a white jacket with long sleeves that buckle in the back. Somebody would have seen it, sent a van for me, and deposited me in a rubber room. And rightfully so, I might add.)
I don't know if all of this is making sense, really, but I've already given you the excuse. WE HAVE NO TV! The cable just curled up and died last Saturday evening. As is often the case, a call to the cable company was fruitless. Since I am never again going to take a day off from work to accommodate the schedule of the cable guy, they are sending someone out to the house tomorrow, Saturday. I expect that all will be made right. And, by Saturday evening, my brain will once again be anesthetized to the point where it will function as normally as my brain might, but otherwise not annoy other people with the sort of frippery you got yesterday.
If you actually liked yesterday, tough titties. BWIPADA-boobada-bapada-bipada-BWIPADA-boobada-bapada-bipada. Heh. Or, try this on for size.
Soon, with more better stuff (unless the cable guy doesn't come, in which case I'll be writing about shoving grapefruits up my ass or something.)
0 Yorumlar