Tweezers. That's a thing — I know. But what's a tweeze, and when did it get to be fun? Is it fun?
TSA: Terror State Airlines. Fly us and you'll see.
Tub of meat. Tuna tuba. Roasted toast. Spam of lamb. These are a few of my famorous fings. (Mostly greasy.)
Trouble in Paradise brand motion sickness bags. Useful in case of a trombone attack.
Tom recently became a monkey. Probably a good move. Accounting will take you only so far.
This could be the start of something amorphous.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Just blew my nose. Anyone else do this?
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Ten Thousand Peanuts, laid before Snorfus the God, who actually prefers cash, only lay there, so that didn't work.
Xavier says Hi. He's the new assistant executioner and has some great ideas for improvements around here. He'd like to talk to you. Needs a partner to practice with.
With no noticeable emotion I mailed a whoopie cushion to Aunt Fanny. She's still in Miami, attending the garden pest exposition, is Aunt Fanny. (Also a granny.)
While cleaning I found a used tractor tire under my bed. Strange. I'm sure I didn't leave it there. As I recall I had an elk carcass stashed there in case of societal collapse, famine, rainy days, and more famine, but I could be wrong again. I don't really like rotting elk that much anymore, though the aroma is invigorating.
Under that bush over there? You see that? I don't either. Possibly another deluded illusion caused by urgent females
Twitching tulips — another flower you get nervous about kissing.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I don't admit anything.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Encountered a chicken crossing the road. At least I think it was a chicken. A pretty tall one, about 3-4 meters, maybe more, so anyhow I decided not to mess with it for now.
Encountered a chicken crossing the road. Said her name was Hermione, and she was a stripper, on her way to work. Well I have heard of chicken strips, I guess, but have never seen one in progress. Me, I learn something every day. You?
Encountered a chicken crossing the road. She went from one side to the other and back again, so either she couldn't make up her mind, or it was a double cross in progress.
Encountered a chicken crossing the road. Why this required a motorcycle, I'll probably never know. A pretty slick move though.
Encountered a chicken crossing the road, name of Fred, or Alice (I wasn't listening too closely). Not really going anywhere with purpose, just out for a walk. More of us should try that.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Never touch the stuff.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Captain Immediate. No appointment necessary. Walk-ins mandatory. Open now. Don't tarry.
Captain Esperanto speaks in tongues so don't expect to catch his drift. Shake your head slowly and sidle off. He usually catches on, but occasionally attacks.
Captain Mediocre can't seem to stand out from the crowd. Any crowd.
Captain Ordinary was checked out by the authorities and found to be within spec — about average for his kind.
Captain Please, now rumored to be engaged to Captain ThankYou.
Captain Thirty-Something is getting to be a bit to old for the job description. Might have to promote to Captain Middle Management or go on disability.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Still in charge of something. Something.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Not to be outdone by anyone, Captain Mumblytones intends to form a choir, to be called "The Hummers". We can't wait. Literally. Leaving now.
Since when did Captain Automatic require batteries? Not the Captain Automatic that I knew.
Captain Untenable is soliciting subscriptions to support his habit, which is nose picking. He may in fact, as he claims, be the world champion, but so far the money has been slow to begin rolling in, so we'll check back later.
Captain Two-For-One is again holding the annual 50% off sale — get three shoes now for the price of a pair. Something like that. Probably best to call first.
Captain Tenuous drifted into town and almost immediately began to dissipate. Left no trace that anyone could detect, not even anyone who cared.
Captain Anonymous picked up a fresh set of regulation Captain Anonymous Super Hero uniforms, all standard-issue, generic, anonymous uniformoid uniforms. No one can tell who he is, maybe a janitor or something? A billionaire? What? Now he's smiling again, inscrutably as usual.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I can only wish.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
"Gorky Nibbles" — Doggy bites and favorite Russian snack, all in one package.
"Tremulous Tenderloin" — Gourmet diet grub made from Uncle Wiggly's Gelatin Flakes.
"Harvard Ham Pellets" — Eat and get smart. $29.95 per ounce. If that seems excessive, you're already halfway there. (Note: Price does not include tuition).
"Mom's Megafauna Meat Chunks" — Made from the largest beasts available locally, when in season. Practically indescribable.
"I Honestly Can't Tell That It's Not Butter, Can You?" — Edible grease cubes and lubricating lozenges. Better than Mom's most of the time.
"Beverly's Healthy Bites In A Barf Bag" — Previously unrecycled nutrients that our neighbor Beverly has found and collected locally, where possible. Pretty good on average, but expect lingering laxative effects.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I never eat. Not after this.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Sheila doesn't work here any more. I guess she never did. The only remaining mysteries seem to be who is Sheila and why I am writing this.
Saw troops of monkeys chasing guys in suits. Or was it the other way around? Hard to tell when the uniforms look so much alike.
Saw a big hole in the street. Went over for a look. Not much there except a hole, and not even any free doughnuts.
Rented a porcupine to make wine with. They're just light enough to bruise but not crush the grapes. Mine had diarrhea though. Yeah, another bummer.
Raining today. I know because some of it fell on my head. Is rain white and steamy-warm and stinky and does it come from birds where you live?
Something older than fuzz, found on the Grunder Steps, next to an open-ended surf wrench, has now been declared officially dangerous. Or dangerously official. Or I forgot my notes. How about we try again later?
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I really didn't intend to share this, but you look gullible.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Yours is bigger than mine, but not as much fun, especially at home, alone, with lots of ice cream.
Yesterday I thought of something clever. Now I'm back to being a dope. Still ugly too. #MyLifeAsATaillessApe
When will we decriminalize bugs?
Whatever happened to my pants? They couldn't have run away from home, could they? So lonely now.
Torque Treat: Using the included rope, bind victim, twist, tie off, eat cake with beer. Follow up with torrential toast.
My father, a self-taught ignoramus, has now left for parts unknown, with all his own parts.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Holding steady. Holding something. Something squishy though. Not that pleasant.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
You know what they say — if it was really poison, wouldn't it have a big warning label on it? But I'm still refusing to lick the cat any more.
When I was in — I think — third grade, I ate my teddy bear — all of it. Still pooping fuzz 30 years later. Don't know where the eyes went.
What happens on Saturday stays on Saturday.
Want to buy lightly-used hamburgers? I know a guy.
Turdslinger. My name is Turdslinger. Stand back if you know what's good for you.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Just a mooting kind of person, I guess.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Bizarre lunch #3: Tapioca and fugu with 3 assorted coal miners.
Bob the Giant Saint now sells Canadian reverse-twist gravy and meatballs.
Chlorophyll deficiency is a thing, and you may be subject to it. First symptom: you have increasing trouble photosynthesizing. Or your pants keep falling down around your ankles. Either one.
Clever people do clever things cleverly. And then some of them explode. A fact of nature. Makes for awkwardness at parties. And weddings. Also funerals, although those are my personal favorites.
Communists have finally infiltrated my underwear drawer. I've been expecting this for a long, long time.
Confessions of a snake oil salesman: 'It was really only peanut oil.'
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I never actually quit.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, sitting alone in the dark of night, counting the grains of sand that fall from out my dusty boots, ever grateful for solitude, loneliness, and the desultory quiet pops emanating from the dying embers of my tiny, homeless campfire.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, having but a scant few hairs left in my graying beard, a thin patina of desiccated sweat sheathing my skin, and a deep appreciation of endless empty landscapes.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy. You know me not, nor I you. And if we passed by on any street, would neither have even the briefest flicker of recognition if we did. For I am anonymous, empty as the wind, drifting along from never to nowhere, always vacant, always alone, always who I am, and no one else, unrecognized and unregarded, the way I have always been and always shall remain.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, nothing more than I am, nothing less, and inhabiting none of the territory between.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, sitting quietly next my horse named "Hoarse", my sixgun named "Pooter the Shooter", and my cat Muffin, imaginary all, temporary all, no more substantial than memories of dust, but completely and solely mine.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, combing my hair by starlight, always aware that everything shall end.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Now thinking more deeply about dirt.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Let's keep in mind that, so far, two world wars have been started by Christians, who also designed, built, and ran the Nazi death camps. Credit where credit is due.
No Christian has been known to ask why God invented death and thereby bears responsibility for the demise of every human who has ever lived. Including the righteous.
If God exists, then religion doesn't need to. If God has existed since before space and time, created everything, is omnipotent, and omniscient, knows where every speck of matter and energy came from, where they are at every instant, and when and where they will cease to exist, then God also knows every single thing that anyone will ever do, say, or think, and knew this before the universe itself existed, so there is no need for prayer, let alone religion. But if prayer and religion are needed, then the whole show has to get along just fine without God, who therefore is irrelevant, and is a flimsy fabrication.
I've never had the need to pray to gravity to keep my feet on the floor, so what's the deal with praying to God to keep things ticking? Isn't God smarter than the force that makes urine run down the gutter?
If Jesus died because of your sins, then don't you have a toxic personality? I mean. Really.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Yep. Me.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Ed's sister Fred, economist to the stars, says she doesn't like me any more. Handy, because now I never have to meet her.
Got my kunkel on over the weekend. Will find out what it is later.
Granny's Old-Fashioned Fried Dead Things. On sale all week.
Grand Uncle Hornfunfel was a great guy, according to legend. Used to keep a cassowary in his closet, next to his collection of cassocks. And he was a Cossack, by choice if not by regulation. (Though he was never actually licensed.)
Harvey ain't here no more. He signed up for the witness protection program last week. So as soon as he witnesses something he's all set.
I see that someone purchased me on eBay. I wonder what will happen next. (Going into hiding as a preventive measure though.)
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Still blinded by obliviousness.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
And then there's that cloud up in the sky. Just the one, with that guy sitting on it. Can't be right. Can't be.
And what happens if the knot in the end of the universe lets go and all the air zoops out of it? Will the whole thing go whizzing around, and end up on the carpet, in the corner of some living-room floor like a lost, wrinkled, useless, discarded foreskin? I guess that would put an end to futures trading wouldn't it? I don't care either, but my cat says he knows. And isn't talking.
As high school reunions go, it wasn't that bad — all the corpses were fresh this time.
Bananas don't make good babysitters. Found out the hard way on that one, for sure.
Double mermaid fireball. Saw one once.
Eating poison is not a good way to die, but it is quick, in case you need to be somewhere later on.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Wouldn't know, wouldn't tell.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Nuclear war is something I've considered, but really haven't had the time to pursue yet.
True, nuclear war can be fun, but it's all over in a minute anyway.
If nuclear war is so great, then why doesn't Walmart sell kits online?
I've thought a lot about nuclear war, but somehow poison gas just seems to signify a more personal touch.
Who invented nuclear war anyway? Was it us? Really? Well then it must be OK, though I'm still a bit skeptical around my edges.
Mom agreed to tell me all about how to prepare for and fight a nuclear war, so I didn't have to join Cub Scouts and learn a bunch of sketchy bits and outright useless misinformation there.
Nuclear war isn't always entertaining. For example, if your timing is only a bit off, you don't get any decent laughs at all.
Grampy is a tad bit touchy about nuclear war. "Not like when I was your age," he says. "Back then it was the real deal and cars even had tail fins. Now look at it all. Nobody's even building fallout shelters any more, and you've got no place to get away from the wife for even a few minutes." True.
Nuclear war isn't even the worst that can happen. There's still high school for crying out loud. I mean, think about it.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Finally getting comfy with my lizard brain collection.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Dad was appointed to fill an empty Senate seat for the state of Georgia. Lucky him — the term has five years and eleven months to go, so he's got job security. He's also been dead for 11 years, so his conservative credentials are impeccable. (Can't be peckered, by any pecker.) The only iffy part might be his habit of climbing out of his box and running naked through the streets. He's been doing that since the last shovelful of dirt hit his grave, which the cemetery caretaker and two dogs can attest to. Nobody can figure out how he gets out of the hole, with half a ton of dirt on top, but there you are. This is mostly why I moved to Australia. When you die here, that's it — no funny business. And the dead are officially barred from holding political office.
Well, it's been a tough week for Dad. Despite him showing enough initiative to keep climbing out of his grave to run around naked, and despite setting up his own political campaign ("Dead Prez 24"). It looks pretty certain that the other old dead white guys have him outnumbered this time around.
If monkeys were randomly appointed to every political office and position of power, we'd realize that they actually have been filling those positions for centuries now, and that maybe the best thing you can do is to wear a monkey costume, keep your head down, save all you can, and quietly slip away as soon as you are able manage it. And possibly steal just one more extra bag of monkey nibbles.
Meanwhile, political candidate Doorknob Stumpf is proclaiming that a few thousand helpless people so desperate to survive that they left their homes to walk thousands of miles are going to do us in. Faced with such determination, ingenuity, and sheer grit, I hope so. We need people like that.
Meanwhile, a current office holder by the name of Slo-Mo Joe Binding is practicing walking across a stage without falling down more than once. Way to go, Mo Joe. Now resign.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Just tried a bowl of "Uncle Bob's Monkee Munch". Pretty good overall, considering that I'm an ape.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Attention My Dear Friend From Your Friend Agent Richard Stephen
I am Mr. Richard Stephen, a senior officer at John F. Kennedy International Airport New York, during my search for undelivered parcels I discovered an abandoned shipment from a Diplomat from Africa and when scanned it revealed an undisclosed sum of money in a metal trunk box which could be approximately $12.5Million dollars.
The consignment was abandoned because the Contents of the consignment was not properly declared by the consignee as "MONEY" rather it was declared as personal effect to avoid interrogation and also the inability of the diplomat to pay for the United States Non Inspection Charges which is $3,800USD. On my assumption the consignment is still left in our Storage House here at the John F. Kennedy International Airport Queens New York till date. The details of the consignment including your name, your email address and the official documents from the United Nations office in Geneva are tagged on the Trunk box.
However, to enable me confirm if you are the actual recipient of this consignment as the assistant director of the Inspection Unit, I will advise you provide your current Phone Number and Full Address, to enable me cross check if it corresponds with the address on the official documents including the name of nearest Airport around your city. Please note that this consignment is supposed to have been returned to the United States Treasury Department as unclaimed delivery due to the delays in concluding the clearance processes so as a result of this, I will not be able to receive your details on my official email account. So in order to enable me to cross check your details, I will advise you to send the required details to my private email address for quick processing and response. Once I confirm you as the actual recipient of the box, I can get everything concluded within 48hours upon your acceptance and proceed to your address for delivery.
Lastly, be informed that the reason I have taken it upon myself to contact you personally about this abandoned consignment is because I want us to transact this business and share the money 70% for you and 30% for me since the consignment has not yet been returned to the United States Treasury Department after being abandoned by the diplomat so immediately the confirmation is made, I will go ahead and pay for the United States Non Inspection Fee of $3,800 dollars and arrange for the box to be delivered to your doorstep Or I can bring it by myself to avoid any more trouble but you have to assure me of my 30% share...
I wait to hear from you urgently if you are still alive and interested to receive your box and I will appreciate it if we can keep this deal confidential. My private Email: (richardstephen915@gmail.com) for further directives: You can not call me on my telephone number for it will expose me more.
Thank you. Mr. Richard Stephen Assistant Inspection Director John F. Kennedy International Airport Queens New York, 11430 United States
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I am trustable complete, send money you are safe in my fingers.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
I can't complain — I'm not a clown, but if a monkey, well then I'd frown.
I'm worried that my nose is too big. People are always laughing. Ever since clown school. I sneeze in your general direction, Mr Poopyhead.
Someone told me that every Thursday is a major holiday, but it's never happened before, so I'll think twice about wearing my clown costume to work again.
Uncle Benny laid an egg last night while attending the opera. Could have been worse. Since no one but he can stand all the terrible howling, he was all alone there in his formal clown suit, clucking softly in the dark.
I used to have an inkling until it flew away to join the circus.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I can't.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
Pat and Trite the Obvious Sisters, are selling off slightly used Xmas gift rejects. Xmas gift rejects. They call them "Regurgitates". Socks, sweaters, Bibles, pets — you name it and they probably have it, at least one of each and every. Sale ends Friday but they didn't say in which month. Bring your own disinfectant.
Pat and Trite the Obvious Sisters want you to know that you are not alone, even if you deserve to be. They are always watching, and taking notes.
Pat and Trite the Obvious Sisters, are starting a new suburban lawn care service. They'll come by, critique your spread, and tell you what to do. $7500 for each 30 minute session, by appointment. Repeat customers welcome, if any. No whining.
Pat and Trite the Obvious Sisters, are holding a non-denominational service for all interested parties in the name of the "Totally Average Non-Religious Deity of Ordinary Normal Good Folks Like Us". Pretty much says it all right there. Come one, come all, and enjoy the post-silent-meditation potluck. Bring what you can, but they already have more salads than anyone can look at without gagging, so how about something meaty? A voluntary $10 love offering will be collected at the door ($20 if you don't bring food, because everyone else will be and you're not that special, are you?) too, and we have to be realistic about this, people.
Pat and Trite the Obvious Sisters have a Neighborhood Watch which will be scanning the vicinity from the community observation tower, looking for dry or unclean bird baths, among other things. Help us, people! We need to bring our area up to national standards!
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Not much like them, at all.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, drifting along from place to place, never noticed, never heard, never missed once I am again gone.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, shuffling along quietly near the borders of what is called life. Never one to complain, I then do not, preferring to cut and to keep cut as many of the ties to average daily life as I am able, while remaining substantially unseen, unheard, and delible.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, sitting aside my solo campfire talking to any and whichever adventurous moths might tender a brief visit, otherwise completely alone, save for a scant few stars and the nightly chill.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, sitting very still, listening to something howling at the moon, surprised once again to realize that it is I, clever man.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, unformed, shapeless, a shade, a shadow, a small uncertain cloud of indifference and lost opportunity, neither here nor there, nor even anywhere in between, and no longer sure of anything else.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy. Never been kissed, save for a few gritty wind-blown grains of sand, eventually learning to quit hoping. Never had a real conversation with a real woman even, ever. I did try though, somewhat. Even said my prayers, always on time, and respectfully, but no. Now, old and leathery, parked quietly in the dark of night, I no longer do more than to wait. For what, I do not know, nor really care. I wait, only wait.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Just blew my nose. Expect to recover shortly.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction definitions: outdoor terms fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
