here it goes again.

typing away. like it fucking matters.

and yet, i'm am still here.
doing it.
again.

oh well, what else am i gonna do?
i already perfected my flop shot in the yard with my new 60 degree cleveland classic sand wedge that was given to me as a tip last week at the wreck room.

thanks pete.

i also read a few pages of the newspaper and did the crossword and skimmed the classifieds.

i then doodled in my spiral for several minutes.
i like to draw cubes.
all sorts and sizes of cubes.

i'm going to put out an art gallery of all of my cube drawings.

nah, fuck that.

then i watched an episode of "Six Feet Under".

i am a busy man.

and yet i still find time for you.
all of you.

i slave away at this computer to entertain you and ask for nothing in return. nothing at all.

i am a true artist.

i expect no monetary rewards from anyone.
but i would like a bus and a lakehouse near a golf course.

is that too much to ask?

fuck you if it is,

scott