joe.

still up, waiting for inspiration to come home.  it’s out partying with those other two — love, and success.  the three are getting blitzed at a bar someplace waiting for me to show up.  i’m going to bed. 

a hole in the wall is worth far more in guilt value than the cost of the spackle it would take to fill it.&nbsp one of the best deals since horse-hair plaster.&nbsp

now HERE is a blog.  check out them hippos.  i’m now finally having this morning’s pot o’coffee #2 (long night ahead, i guess) and before tomorrow morning, i may give in and bid on the mug of the sixty-nining ungulates.  I especially like their expressions of wide-eyed surprize. 

fixed tire.  bike was very grubby.  just finished cleaning it–with a toothbrush.  i get a little carried away. 

hey, when i was still depressively employed, i would have sooner stuck needles under my nails than take care of something so intimate to me–so very ‘joe’–as my bike.  i even cleaned the fridge last week.  i do laundry.  i might even replace those rags i use for towels with new ones. 

but right now, i still need milk before i can have some more coffee.  and i am desperate for coffee…

still tweaking the template for this page, colors and such.  large layout changes, and pleasing table affairs will no doubt be forthcoming.

i need to go get milk.  i have to bring my weekly unemployment claim form to the post office (still not approved for it yet).  i have to fix my bike’s flat tire (or keep pumping it up every seven minutes).  and it’s snowing, hard. 

there is a very dark brew in my cup.

out of bed.  finally.  have to make coffee with 2 scoops decaf and 6 scoops regular, different than my usual 1/2 and 1/2 recipe, because i only have enough milk for three cups of coffee, plus a real dark fourth, maybe.

hoo-eff’n-ray.  now it’s all almost the way it’s supposed to be… er, i mean, it’s all almost the way i want it to be.  after trudging through supposed to’s all my life, i am now stunned and charmed every single time i watch as my legs lift off and fall back under rediscovered wings and a new trust of flying; what i want is what i am supposed to do.  i’ll be damned!

(good night, Irene.)

well, getting sleepy, and can’t shake the journal-type template.  if i fuck around with it much longer, i’ll be up all night.

diving in, playing and splashing.  hope i catch a cold.