Finally, a post!

Ok folks, so I know I have been lazy on this whole blogging thing (I apologize)... but I'm not promising that posts will come with anymore frequency either, thats how it is whoadis. So anyway, here is some crap I wrote about a week or so ago.
With that disclamer, on with the show:

Let me first start off by saying I’m no philosopher, nor do I claim it. Conversation, or rather lack thereof, has brought me to the point I’m at today. Broke, or maybe just broken. Put a pen in my hand and I don’t know whether to write or draw. I’m really not that good at either but, eh, I’ll give it a shot.
Moving along…
Catharasis is what really drives the world. The drive towards perfection. The anxiety that keeps people down. Or out. All the vices that move us closer to death, but really keep us alive, or makes us feel alive. Funny how the universe works, one minute you feel like you’ve mastered it, and the next it drops a rock on your head. Not a boulder, but one big enough to give you a sense of misdirection. To make you think that maybe the path you’ve chosen is the wrong one.
Put a pen to paper and who knows what’ll happen next.
Like giving a knife to a serial killer, one who wields it so effectively you’d swear they were a butcher in a past life. Or a serial killer. Hmmm, conundrum?
I am a shooting star, burning out my time, the light traveling millions of miles for others to see, only to lose focus after being spotted for that split second by some drunk bum grasping his 40 oz. medicine bottle. I am the shiver that runs down you spine, the moment that takes your breath away. We are all of these and more, trouble is I can’t find the words to truly describe it. It would worry me if I could.
If you’ve stuck around this long congratulations, you’ve just procrastinated five minutes. I’d give you a gold star but I’m all out. Raincheck?

So next time you’re out somewhere and the really crappy cover band with the wannabe Axle Rose asks for requests, do not yell out, “PLAY FREEBIRD, MAN!!”, because they might actually attempt to play it. Trust me, it’ll hurt, more than a titty twister or my putting a pen to paper.
Keep on procrastinating…