Saturday, January 20, 2007

My body stunk but I kept my funk

I have been on a big Faces kick lately. I am listening to "Ooh La La" as I type this to you, dear reader.

(Thanks Mop.)

I have received a communiquè or two about my lack of writing here lately.

((Antwaan and P., I'm talking to you.))

Well, every once in a while even someone as verbose as myself runs out of Words.

(((tm, V. Productions.))))

I have always maintained that people only come here for the pretty pictures. The attention span of your average American is slightly longer than that of a fruitfly. People don't even read books anymore. I love reading books. Always have.





In fact, my mom tells the story of one sunny summer day in the Dam. I was in grade school, maybe 4th grade. One of my friends rode his bike over to my house. I was laying in my room reading. Probably The Hobbit or The Fellowship of the Ring.









My mom walked down the hall and stuck her head in my bedroom door and told me my friend was there to see me. I told her that I would rather keep reading and she sent him away.






I also used to play a lot of Dunegons and Dragons.




((((Yes, ladies, I am single. You may want to get yourself a piece of this while it's still fresh. Or curl up with a nice book. Whatever.)))

I wish that I knew what I know now.

(((((When I was younger.))))))

I wish that I knew what I know now.

((((((When I was stronger.))))))

I wish that I knew what I know now.

(((((((Ooh La La.)))))))

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey, Dude. Because you're always bitching about readers lurking and never commenting and because I can't stop reading, I emerge from the morass. I remember when you were reading Scar Tissue, and I had it on my bookshelf, and I meant to read it before I saw the Peppers last August, but I'm only just getting around to it now, and I can't put it down. So gotta go. Talk at ya later.

8:52 AM  
Blogger Paulette said...

Dude, I know the words are around, they're just hangin' out down in the basement right now, biding their time. But they're there, to be sure, eating Cheetos on that old ratty couch and listening to the guitar music floating down through the floor boards. When you're ready to call 'em, they'll come trotting upstairs, blink hard a few times at the light reflecting off the snow outside and be ready to go again.

5:18 PM  

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home