Cats can’t whack off

I suspect we’d all be a lot happier if they could.

Oh, I don’t know. Merry Xmas. Yeah, Xmas.

I hate it when people don’t understand me. It’s worse when they think they understand me. Christmas. Man, whatever. My ass is broke and even the idea of it is daunting and depressing.

I’m anxious for family and friends. I just talked to my Mom. I needed for her to remind me what Cristmas is about for us, for our family. I needed to hear her say it. It worked. It helped. I’ll book a flight tomorrow.

Why do I still dream of going over a cliff in a motorhome? Giant waves and sinking ships? We debate until the end. Conflict is thick and before you know it, all is lost. Family and friends and me over a thousand foot drop. The bottom rushes at me. I lay in bed an extra half hour for that shit movie. Perverse nightmare lunacy. Why?

I’m a mess. This is a mess. I’m flirting with the wind and the very edge. Closest I’ve ever been. The gusts dictate my balance. We all fall down. That’s why. That’s the rumpus.

Broke for Christmas. Fucking awful. I have a reputation for generosity. I will bring wine and my etchings. That will be enough. Mom said so.

I just want to see and touch them all. My family, my friends.

My definition of crazy: Not Boring.

My definition of insanity: Sometimes blue is purple…………look at that truck.

Celery and grapefruit. Red cherries on green slices of melon.

Dive in headfirst and get water all up in your face. Like snorting horseradish.

Then there’s the ghosts. They move everywhere and beneath everything. They are on your side and then not. No way to schmooze them. They don’t care at all.

Drinks for my friends.

2 Responses to “Cats can’t whack off”

  • Hey Cheer up chuck. I’m so broke for Christmas, I can’t even pay you no mind. Yeah I know I’ve got that art making thing on my side, I guess I’m one up on ya there you old sod. But still, bugger me this batfuck, Xmas is about your house on xmas eve. LZ insists on me asking if that little gathering is still on, and if it aint, why she extends an invitation to come over to the Zumwalt castle. I’ll see you at your folks house. Motor homes over cliffs is quite an image. I may have to paint it. Hell, don’t let it worry you though. I say step on the gas, pedle to the floor man. Just don’t forget to shout wildly over your shoulder, “KICK OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR! EVERBODY JUMP!”
    Chow for my Pal

  • admin:

    yup, it’s on, but’s byob. See ya then.

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