Hi I was icing my legs. Like a cake kinda but actually more like injury feelings and freezer baggies with plastic zippers. Pretty awesome. Also, Rafa Nadal is playing tennis (as I type this) about 90 minutes from my house. But here I sit. Broke as a motherfucker. Drinking coffee I made myself. In an old undershirt. Typing to an Internet I am mostly convinced does not know or care if I exist.

Which is a bit dramatic. I mean. You don't have to care if I exist or anything like that. I mean. No need to email and go oh dude you are really jazzy. Even tho I like that shit. Basically becuz of narcissism and low self-esteem. Pretty much I swing on that pendulum like it's a ride at the fair.

I also like thin women with decently large breasts. And by decently large I mean anything bigger than a small B.

Don't get me wrong tho. I like small ones, too.


What was I talking about?

Oh right. Tennis. Yeah. Rafa is in Cincinnati and I'm sitting here online. My hands smell like bleach becuz my kitchen mop broke and I had to wring it out by hand.

Just so you know, I keep a bucket of bleach water by the back door. Actually, I have two at key locations in the house. It's becuz of germs basically. And messes. I can't stand a messy floor.

A messy floor touched me when I was a boy.

And I've never recovered.

Hot right? Illegal sex stories.

Fuck yeah.

Also buy the new Iron Maiden album. It's ok to return to what you once were. Suburban America awaits you. Welcome back to the fold.

I wish you all well and hope the words I write float around in your head sometimes as you go about your lives wherever you are in the world. In a way, that's all I ever really wanted out of life.

I mean.

It's like all the wealth I need.

Except for actual real money obviously. I mean. Come on. Y'all ain't signin no fuckin checks.

Keep on, Babies. You know I got your back.