I was just in Tallahassee for a spell, and I had a dabba doo time, a gay ol’ time, to quote the late great Flinstones.  I never get much done, and I invariably blow a lot of money on booze, but it’s always tremendously worth it.
There’s just never enough time to visit everyone though.  And that sucks.  Every time I visit campus again, I have the notion that I will somehow bend time to my will, or that everyone’s schedules will magically part before me, like the red sea, and I may wander through town shaking hands and sharing ideas.

By the way, I just tried to type “sharing” five times, each time instead, typing “sharking”.  What is sharking?  The obvious answer would be, “To fish for sharks”.  But I like to imagine that it is the process of transforming into a shark whenever one enters the ocean.  They get an hour before the shift begins to play about like everyone else, and then fifty minutes in, they have to give a warning to everyone in close proximity.  Ten more minutes, you have all the rudimentary characteristics of a shark i.e: gills, teeth, fins, inability to not swim.  About another five minutes, you are completely a shark.  The type of shark you are depends on which ocean you happen to be swimming in.  You would have to intentionally beach yourself to become human again (for you would retain your human cognizance, and therefore could have the wherewithal to make such a decision)

Definitely wasn’t expecting that paragraph to be that long.

I’ve been writing some more lately.  Songs mainly.  I attribute it to the poetry i’ve been reading, which is very lyrical when read aloud.  Pablo Neruda, Octavio Paz, and Mark Doty are folks i’ve been reading lately.  Also, to the annoyance of my roomates, i’ve been jamming a lot more with the electric guitar.  ALL THE WAY TO ELEVEN.  That was a Spinal Tap Reference.  And it was very funny.

I have to go to work in a few minutes.  I have tomorrow off though, which is nice.  I really need a break, you know?  It’s like, come on.  You know?  I mean, jeez.  Ambiguous plea for sympathy, you know?

I told my friends once that sometimes I can’t sleep at night because I can hear the blood rushing through my head so loudly, and I can never have complete silence.  I don’t think that sounds crazy, but now they always bring it up whenever I do something weird.

Coincidentally, according to this spell check, I’ve been spelling “weird” wrong all my life.