A dreary day along the border of some far off country a woman sells eggs and razors to a large Sumo wrestler.

I noticed on a box of spray adhesive today: Addison, Illinois 60101. I wonder what it's like there. Where is it? Is the production of Spray Adhesive the main export from this spot on the map? Is it big enough to have a spot on th map? It's not so interesting to think that i will probably never see Addison, Illinois or millions of other places around the globe. I've trapped myself in my own little world by making attachments with friends, family, my job, school, getting myself caught up in the idea that life has a specific road that must be traveled in order to live a successful and happy life. I just finished reading On the Road by Jack Keroac, and by reading I of course mean that i was listening to it as I've recently discovered the convenience of audiobooks. On the Road gave me an itch for traveling, though I'll never do what Paradise did, and made me realize how much there is to see in this world. I suppose, in a way, I've seen a lot of this world through stories. That's one reason I like books and movies and the like. I mean just in the past 2 months I've visited Paris, watched the running of the bulls in Spain, taken multiple trips across the U.S. then down into Mexico. I've tramped through the middle east and visited worlds that exist only in the minds of readers who care to see Cairhien, Andor, Tar Valon, Illian, and everywhere in between. And this is only from the literature side of things. Were I to include the movies I've seen lately the list would be far longer.
Thus I've concluded that I'm content to visit these places without the complications and discomforts that come with traveling the world, but instead from the comfort of a couch and my mind.

Beautiful scenery and good times

This is revenge.

A cold balcony at the Quality Inn.

I recently realized that there are several things I will never experience in life. For example I will never give birth. I will never know what it feels like to murder someone. I will never know the rush of ecstasy that comes from pushing a syringe into my vein and injecting heroine into it. I will never know what it feels like to sleep in outer space, being completely weightless. I know I won't experience some of these things due to conscious choices I make but the fact remains that I will be deprived (and in some instances: deprive myself) of certain experiences. I just thought it was interesting.

Turn Left at the Painted Indian Face

I'm currently sitting, alone, at a table in a hotel room checking my email and listening to a large group of girls celebrate their friends' last night of virginity and...singleness. In addition to the fact that it's freezing cold in this room, despite the heater that's raging in a hopeless attempt to warm these quarters, I'm typing with cut fingers that refuse to heal. I've hardly slept in the past few days, though I shouldn't complain seeing as Michelle slept for only an hour last night.
I have little reason to write tonight. I suppose I simply feel the need to update anyone who might find their way onto this site.
There's an inevitable longing for summer that comes to those who choose to live in places with extremely harsh and dreary winters. Every winter, without fail, I get sick of the ugly scenery, the frigid temperatures, the unforgiving lack of sunlight, the depression of winter. Luckily I work a job that requires a minimal amount of thought, so I have plenty of time to daydream about warmer weather and all it entails. Only a couple more months of this hell before we've earned another few months of heaven.

Filth the Female Condition

I'm sorry, it's gone too far. I can't take anymore of this fecal matter. That stupid b!@#$ Stephanie Meyer has to be sorted out. They turn women into giddy little morons, and that's just infringing on male territory. Listen ladies, we've got the moron thing covered, we don't need your sad attempts at trying to stoop to our level.
Every time I hear women talk about the Twilight series they begin to sound less and less intelligent and more and more like ditsy, pathetic, air-headed high school girls who lack any novel personality traits. From what I hear (from my wife who is addicted to the abomination), the writing in these books is not even good. Turns out the author just throws in largish words to make it look like she's good at writing. Apparently the one thing she is good at, other than bringing people down, is making the reader (and the demographic of which is female) feel like a high school girl with a crush, which explains how the readers act when they talk about the books.
What happened to good literature? What happened to the Catcher in the Rye, 1984, and Small Island? What happened to Tyler Durden, Boo Radley, and Soup?
What kills me most is when women think that men would like these books. Yes, it has been known to happen, but for the most part these books are for women. They were written by a woman for other women. Men don't write about sparkly, shimmering vampires. For guys, vampires don't sparkle, vampires don't shimmer.
I'll probably write more on this as it continues to bother me, but for now I'm tired and losing my train of thought.

The Blender out-golfed the Puma.

Last night I found out that some people, even those closest to me, may not be aware of something that has always been a large part of my life and who I am as a person. This saddened me and I feel the need to bring this funfact to the attention of all three people who read the crap I write. Alright, so here it is: I love Koolaid.
Since I was a young chap sucking on the stretched out neck of my t-shirt I've loved the stuff. For years Grape was the ruling champion in the fight for the coveted position of favorite flavor. That was until one faithful summer morning 6 years ago when I stumbled upon Mango. Actually I don't remember exactly when I met Mango, but we've been thoroughly fond of one another since. For years and years Koolaid has been my primary source of nutrition, a fact that seems to have taken those closest to me unawares.
I suppose it's not their fault. I go through stages of foods. Such phases include but aren't limited to: Mint Hershey Kisses (which were ingested in disgusting quantities), Koolaid, KitKats, ButterFingers, Baby Ruths, doughnuts, granola bars, bananas, toast, popsicles, Rice Krispy Treats (a personal favorite), and the current obsession: peanut butter (by the spoonful).
All of these have a very special place in my heart and stomach.