I thought about not writing tonight but then I thought to hell with it I’ll write maybe make it a time trial let’s see how fast I can type something that someone sober could ever hope to follow.  That would be a hoot.  My enthusiasm for this project wanes so fast it’s embarrassing, but it’s only five hundred words- I’ll soldier through.  I changed “That’d” to “That would-” I’m not entirely sure why- perhaps I sobered up enough to realize that the colloquial nature of the expression wouldn’t fit exactly with the blueprint, or perhaps my Asperger’s kicked in with a vengeance- I was too intoxicated to care more than a little.  That kind of care that tickled your fancy, but never really struck it.  Hard to explain.  I sit in silence for a moment, letting the thoughts emptiness wash over me.  I’m glad I found that button up top- it fits exactly into the plan I made on the spot.  That’s always a good thing.  I sit some more.  I think to myself that one day I’ll die and that this is mostly it- I’ll do different things and see different things and live a bit longer- but nothing is ever going to change.  If it does, it will be because I willed it, not because of how much money I have in the bank or how many financial advisors I have.  The damn spell check says that “advisors” should be spelled “advisers” and while I guess I see their point I also think I would murder the spell check if I could.

I wonder at times what would happen if the characters I have written on this website encountered each other- how that would turn out?  I had a dream last night that I was the father of a son, and that I stole one of his cigarettes that was in his backpack.  However, my son in this dream was older and owned his own house, so I don’t know why he had a backpack.  For some reason, the cigarettes were Marlboros, but there were Chinese characters on the wrapper.  It was all quite strange, to be honest.

One hundred forty words to go- then I can go take a piss in silence and head to the bed.  The money you make working twenty-two hours of overtime is nice, but the sleep you get on the last day is worth five times as much.  There is no waking up in the middle of the night that night, I can assure you.

I am almost asleep.  It will be a wonder if I can finish this little project before I pass out.  I yawned a few minutes ago.  My eyes are having trouble staying open for more than a few seconds at a time.  I don’t know what to say.  I should probably head to sleep.  No one reads this shit anyway.  Which is, in retrospect, a good thing.  Writing a blog that almost no one reads is kinda like walking around naked in your backyard- you know someone could see you, but odds are, no one ever will.

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