The Flight of the Rocketman

We are all angels. What we do with our wings is what separates us... Northfolk (as texted to me by my father)

I love the sentiment of the above epigraph, but something is rotten in Denmark if there is any fucking truth to the statement. Because if there were any truth to the statement, there are a lot of angels who are dragging their stupid little wings in the mud and dirtying them up and them raising them for all to see.

When they fly, the mud and dirt and whatever trash and filth their pinyons picked up will drop to the Earth and shower us all with their refuse... It's not a pretty sight. But that is what will be if the epigraph is true.

It's happening now: assholes and bastards hurting people left and right, doing what they want and without regard for anybody else's feelings. Some of these people are merely 17. If they get away with it, can you imagine what they could do when they are older? Son of a bitches, acting some tough, feeling so good, confident because God made them attractive... well, sweetie, he didn't give you much of a brain and neither did he give you a heart. And if he did, well, you certainly are being an ungrateful fuck about it, aren't you?

To a particular son-of-a-bitch: FUCK YOU! (you know who you are)

Anyway, life goes on and things are just getting more and more complicated. Clothes piling up because all my money is going to rent this week and my laundry is piling up and up. My landline is there, the unit has been connected but the telephone lines are dead; no dial tone. I'm so pissed off... Just one break -- that's all I ask.

I'm so tired from going to the gym everyday. I'm so weirded out that I've given up smoking and drinking... I just find it so strange...

Everything is so strange...