I have no doubt that I'm rambling on about rambling on. I have little doubt that my words often make less sense than I'd like. I have little doubt that I often make things out to seem other than exactly how they truly are.
Here's exactly how one thing was. At 7:21, I was reading 'For Whom the Bell Tolls.'* I'm parked in a little lot just above a small dam that is responsible for a popular swimming hole. I discovered the swimming hole about an hour ago, and now I consider myself reasonably clean again. I'm sitting with my doors open. I'm relaxing in my chair with an incredible slouchiness. This book explodes with memorable wording. The day is still hot, my shirt is off with a vengance, and my turtle is sweating into the book where the pages are resting. My stomach tattoo is very popular with amazable children who don't know how to express awe outside of earshot: "Daddy! Did you SEE that TURTLE!" I sincerely swear to you: this will never get old. My stomach is a source of infinite joy.
I was going to go to the movies, but I couldn't finish my $2 40oz of Steel Reserve fast enough. I remained seated on a secluded bench until the sun truly disappeared and left me with nothing but an empty bottle in the dark. Then I was starving. I cyclo-raced up the mountain a piece to where my van still was. I ate boxed bullshit, and went to bed.
I looked for employment in an excessively half-assed manner, and didn't take care of my mind or body very well. My soul is a different matter. My soul operates independently, and often shoots from the hip. My worries are few and far between for my soul.
My mom thinks that maybe Bike Friday didn't hire me because someone there read my blog. My response was "fuck'em, then." The possibility crossed my mind too. And why not? It isn't hard to find me from Google, and who wants to hire a kid who speaks unverifiable silliness about the personification of a soul? (Or whatever else I've been saying). To worry about not getting employed due to my words here seems excessively paranoid. But the possibility can't be denied. I'm not shutting up - I'll just keep on spilling everything I have to be spilled until I get fed up and delete this whole mess with a grunt.
*you might remember that I thought I lost this book in NYC. Matt Klopp had it in his van, and he returned it. My spectacles - my lost glasses - were sitting next to the DVD player in my folks's house. My new spectacles trump'em anyway. There's a host of yellow, and they're sporty looking & good for cycling.