Johnny Rumble: Starting Over

I'm starting over.  Somewhere fresh.

Catch me and my new muse here. <--Click

We'll see how long this sticks around,

Johnny Rumble

Johnny Rumble: Shuttered

As I write this, there is a brace on my right wrist.  It actually took me about 45 seconds longer to write that sentence than it should have.

Its February of 2012, and I haven't written anything of substance in quite a long time.  I think my writing days are pretty much over.  I don't have that muse, that inspirational spark to sit at my computer and touch type something out.  It could be:

1)  The computer is now in the other wing of the fucking house, a wing that I don't go often except to answer the front door.

2)  My general lack of a really interesting life.  I don't have the wierdos, the freaks, the others to look at and observe anymore.  "College is, like, fucking over man... get a real job."

It could be months or even years before I decide to pick up the proverbial quill again, and when I do, it probably will be behind the screen of a laptop instead of this clunky outdated piece of "wonderful desktop machinery."  It's over, and I knew this a long time ago.

So, I guess until next time, when the pillow flips over and the cool side gets exposed again,

Johnny Rumble

Johnny Rumble: A Relative Unstable Stability

I'm as unstable as I'll ever be this year RIGHT NOW.  Sitting at the computer, drinking Lemon Youku herbal tea, tikking and typing on a wireless keyboard, listening to Hong Kong rap pop something or other and Crass in simul-cast from the left and right speakers on either side of glowing moniter.  SAMSUNG.

I'm leaving on a Jet Plane.  I'm gonna wear my purple sunglasses and pretend I'm the Queen of England.  Or Elton John... kind of the same thing really.

Particles of dust are floating around me, I can see them like I can see the bubbles in my eyeballs.  There, but mythical, mystical.

I'm sticker-bombing The Saturn, and you can't fucking stop me.

pbbbbt,

Johnny Rumble