The Fat Man Today

Don't you just hate it when you sit down in front of your desk, open a word document And nothing happens? Seriously. Back a couple of years ago, you can whip up a decent (if emo) post in a few minutes, hit the post button, and go back to sleep. You even finished a short story - the first story you ever published - overnight. Some folks even say that that was your best story. Of course, back then, you were in college, didn't have to work, a rampant alcoholic, and best of all, you actually read all them long books (most of which weren't even entertaining). Argh. So anyway, lately there's been a large decline in my drive to put two decent sentences together. I sometimes think that this is because I lack the endorphins necessary to think clearly enough without falling asleep after several minutes of staring into space. Other times, I think I just lack more alcohol in my system, and open the bottle that's always beside my table and knock back two hefty shots of neat ...

This morning, I groggily woke up at around four-ish to five thirty in the morning to start getting ready to go to work. I step into the can, take the requisite morning dump, and reach out to fill the big-ass bucket in my bathroom with water. Upon closing the faucet a few minutes later, I discover that the faucet head didn't screw shut like it usually should. It slowly eased into the closed position, instead of the usual screw-and-lock feel that I'd gotten used to. Upon closer inspection, I discover that this was only one of three minor changes in the bathroom. The shower knob had been replaced with a wonkier (albeit more functional) grip, and the hose that led from the water closet of the toilet to the pipe had been repaired. For reasons inexplicable to me, my stress level hit the roof at around five-thirty in the morning. I never pictured myself as a person who'd react this violently to change, given my Zen outlook on life, the universe and everything. There's also t...

I don't blog enough. Why do I even keep this blog up anyway? Sit down. Feel your ass settle into the chair. Close your eyes and think of the last single most relaxing thing you did. Like eat your favorite chocolate. Or talk to your favorite person on the phone. Mmm. Feels good, doesn't it? Feels as if the past few days were a blur. You're slowing down though, like a horse fresh from the races, catching it's breath after a tenuous run. Through your closed lids, you imagine yourself looking down at your forelegs and seeing the veins bulging through your hide after all that effort. There is steam rising from your flanks, your body is so heated after the run that you're emanating an aura of sorts. You grin, and shake your head. In real life, you shake your head as well. It's been a good four days. Nobody will ever find the body, you think. After all the running and the effort, the pains you took to hide Elsa's corpse after you accidentally stabbed her durin...