Wow.

Well, that's one for you. More proof that I may be the most incredible, inscrutable motherfucker you're ever likely to meet. Who else would begin a journal entry with a quote from The Producer's "King of Broadway" *and* describe their mood with a quote from Ralph Bakshi's "Wizards"?

Not a goddamned soul, that's who.

And please, if you don't like "Wizards," I very graciously ask that you either suck my cock or keep the opinion to yourself. I'm uninterested in the thoughts of the truly tasteless.

Of course, I didn't come here to talk about "Wizards" or my cock. I came here to blather, as usual. Today's bit of bullshit arises from how I've been spending my days, lately. That is to say, what days? I stay up until sunrise, I sleep until sunset and three to four nights a week, I get out and fuck around for a few hours. I've started watching stupid amounts of television. Since I got hooked on B:TVS (take a fucking guess) back in...'99 or so, I've been catching the syndicated stuff on FX. Additionally, since DS9 is running on 3-4am on weeknights on UPN again, I'm watching that, too, along the occasional bit of ST:TNG on the Nashv--er, National Network. Of course, there are other television shows that I enjoy, but that's what I deal with most often since these are all dailies.

Hm. It's almost 2:30am. Probably a good time to turn off my cell.

Anyway, other than that, my father is finally home from New York, which is good, because it means someone will actually be cooking in the house again. My mother, apparently, cannot cook and whenever I was strapped for cash in these past few weeks, I was forced to go with her to hunt down sustenance somewhere. Hong Kong Express, McDonald's, House of Pies, Acapulco, El Pollo Loco, KFC...you get the idea. Now, granted, I'm not complaining, exactly, but let's say that one isn't always aware of what's missing until it's gone, eh? Besides, the advantage of a home cooked meal is that there's almost always leftovers to scavenge when I prowl around the house late at night.

Nothing I do better than benefit from someone else's labour, savvy?

Onward...

I was reading elsewheres about public journaling, the why's and such. Made me think about my own reasons for doing this and so I went back to my first entry here on 08/04 of last year and found absolutely no insight whatsoever. Not surprising, considering that at least part of the reason I started writing in this thing was because a couple people whom I thought were cool were doing it and, well, making it look cool. (Oh yes, my friends, even I am not completely above sheepdom.) However, that's only part of it. After all, I'm not a writer in any sense and I certainly don't fancy my life interesting enough that people would want to read about it. So what the hell am I doing here? Well, the truth is, I'm grandstanding like a motherfucker. I have a perverted desire to showcase myself...rather like every other jagoff out there with a website. ;) This begs the question of whether or not the content posted here in tainted by the knowledge that I know people are reading and, well...only partially. On this site, there are six entries that are not for public consumption, mainly because I've no interest in displaying my nigh-obsessive sexual thoughts about certain people, most of whom are already aware I want to fuck them anyway. However, those of you who know me are quite aware that reading here and talking to me are similar, but not necessarily the same. There are certain things I simply don't express in person that I'm more than happy to spill here. I defy anyone who knows me to note the difference in my demeanor during the "black entries" of October. Of course, having said that, I know at least one of my smartass readers would probably claim that they could...but they're full of it, so let's move on. The point is I'm here to get shit off my chest, not disrupt my interpersonal relationaships. When you're on your own as much as I am, you tend to need your own personal wall to throw mental spaghetti at.

Anyway...I think I'm done. I need a drink...