THE TENTATIVE MOTION MOTHERFUCKERS

There are little bits of grass on the floor, and also little bits of dirt. There might be little bits of bugs in the little bits of dirt, and also little bits of hotdog buns. The walls are moderately damp. The air has an undeniable and palpable weight to it. Men are standing in their sports uniforms in a circle. They are moving their limbs jerkily, and running in place a little bit. They are doing this in order to indicate that they are "pumped," or, rather, to communicate the sentiment of "being pumped." Some of the men move to the rhythm of "Eye of the Tiger," which is playing in their heads at slightly different tempoes. No one really notices. One man moves his arms in a "pumping motion" in order to indicate that he is "pumping." He shortly changes to the jerking of the others because he is done "pumping." He is "pumped". They are "pumped". There is a camaraderie in the air for all who are "pumped", and it is proliferated to the same degree as the humidity. The men take in their camaraderie. The men are further "pumped," and are propelled beyond the previous level to which they were "pumped."

feeling aggressive acid reflux symptoms
find it difficult to swallow/i must swallow every few minutes or i will feel uncomfortable and awkward
feel uncomfortable and awkward

this is an excerpt from my memoir
it's a work in progress
it's called

SHITHEADS

"I think that you are full of shit."
"What?" Christian distracted himself with the menu of a trendy bistro. "Oh, okay" kind of leaked out of his mouth as Charles's statement sank in.
"I think that you are full of shit and you are a fucking lunatic." The pitch and overall intent of the words were consistent with Charles's neutral facial expression, but not with the words themselves.
"I know, I heard you," and he had.
"Oops." Charles's cheeks flushed for some reason. He put his fingers near his mouth. He discreetly looked at his armpits.
"What would you folks like tonight?" The waiter's cheerful facial expression didn't belie his stealth.
"I'm tired," thought Charles, but instead he said "I want a goddamn centipede." The waiter nodded and wrote it down on his hand. Christian turned into an alien and said something in an alien language and the waiter wrote it down too. Then the waiter turned into an alien.
"Turn into an alien or I'll kill you" said an alien who was walking by.
"I think that you are full of shit." The alien's feelings were hurt and he turned back into a poodle or something. Christian alien guy also turned normal.
Charles looked at Christian, and noticed that he had little bits of dandruff in his eyebrows. He wondered if the dandruff was eyebrow dandruff or head dandruff that fell into Christian's eyebrows. Charles wondered what would happen if dandruff was alien shit, and then an alien was taking a shit on Christian's head. Charles looked away. There was alien shit on Christian's head when he looked back, and also on his eyebrows. Charles didn't know if the alien had shitted directly onto Christian's eyebrows or if he had taken a shit on his head and it dripped down.
"Hey here's your food, bye." kind of fell out of the waiter's mouth like lower case letters and he set down a plate of waffles for the two rascals.
"Thank you" said an elderly woman who was talking on the phone.
"You're welcome" said the phone; Charles was on the phone with the elderly woman. The waiter had three faces now. They all had the same mouth, which continued around the whole head. Christian would have wondered what would happen if the waiter opened his mouth, but he had an alien on his head and he was also pretty tired. The waiter's left face wore a very grim facial expression and grunted. The other faces didn't do anything.

remember this blog
feel obligated to update it
possibly vintage now
been like a blog decade since i updated it or something
is it relevant still
probably not

oh no
missed a day of posting

wonder about a world without vowels/too bad 2012 is the last year ever/we will not live to see a world without vowels

feel depressed
went from 27 hits a day to 2 hits a day
worried about my internet presence
am i obsolete
am i no longer relevant
don't know what to do

i struggle to so much as wonder what my niche is

considering branching out into the world of mp3-blogging
lllllllllllll are a good band
so are lllllllllllllllllll
they make good tunes
you should listen to them


that seemed strangely unfulfilling
will go back to blog-blogging

feel very tired
pretty sure i feel like this all the time
why do i have 150 hits
this is depressing content

wondering about the state of the blogosphere
causes me to feel more lethargic

wish i was one of those people who
felt angsty, wrote poems
feel like anything i write is basically
a blog post about being tired

feel too tired to even tag this post

feel like at or near midnight is my most common blogging time
i feel dry and empty re bloggable tidbits

hard to believe it was just one week ago that i was a veritable font of creativity,
spewing forth variations of "feel neutral" or "feel tired" up to seven times a day
now i struggle to do so even once

wish i could identify with someone
googled "famously tired people"
a fruitless endeavor

maybe i am unique
considering expressing self via non standard clothing and music choices

feel ambiguous feelings about my shameless cry for more hits
on popular web log hipster runoff
feel moderately good, but also like a sell out
got six extra hits so far, but also sold my honor
don't know what to think/feel/say/do

thought i would feel validated at 100 hits
like a valuable asset of the weblogosphereiverse

feel neutral

when do i not/is this a surprise

maybe i need more hits
feel like the guy behind the 'save toby scam' circa 2005

right now i am living in the moment!
right now it is exhilarating!
right now my right forearm is itchy!
right now my stubble has reached a length of approximately 5 eights of an inch!
right now i think i should maybe shave, but possibly go the bearded route!
right now i think that is 'a dumb idea'!
right now envy me right now!