this is one of those honest posts....

one of those where i spill the beans. let 'em scatter all over the floor in some kind of mystic configuration. and then i look down in amazement. "wow, look at the beans i spilled which then in turn took the shape of some mystic shit that i shouldn't even be allowed to understand, but yet i do.

and that is the problem.

my problem.

everything means something.
everything was supposed to happen just the way it did.
there are no coincidences.

don't you get it?

these cool ranch doritos did not just spill onto the floor in the shape of a cloud that you saw on the highway when you were coming back from mowing your pappy's land for no reason.

wake up, scott.

you are supposed to type letters on your computer under the influence of drugs and alcohol.

that is all that matters.

later on, when you are old and indigent, these may mean something.

but maybe not though.

i wanted to thank the half of dozen people who came out to watch me butcher dylan songs...

fuck this.

it don't mean shit,

scott