Stop, Drop and Roll!
An amazing thing about one addict sharing
part of their story with another addict. Is that you can tell another addict just about anything, and nobody shutters. Well, at least not to terriblely awful, and I'm sure it makes for good fotter around the after meeting coffee clatch. But why not?
You know, one thing I find amazing after writing about the time I was thinking about selling my soul inside a Catholic Church for a roll of lucky quaters, a pack of camels, and a bottle of bourbon, is that we all carry on as this is a "Hey, been there, done that moment." We are a strange breed indeed. On a given day, if I told that story to the average person, you would be able to see quite a different reaction, and chances are someone would be trying to perform an exorcism, or worse yet... expecting a me to make a donation for absolution. But the reaction I receive in these circles is more of the "hey, glad you made it back."
Another, more personal, problem is I just didn't know which "war story" to write about next. Like so many, I have plenty of them. But I just didn't know which one to drop on your laps next. Writing in a narrative, slghtly tinged with sarcasm, and gentlely rolled in humor. Still all true, but trying to find that rhythem. To keep everyone just bopping along with my hand-crafted spun tales, of debauchery and hedonism extremeus circus maximus. So I spent the trying to even think of something to write.
My mental replay just didn't want to rewind today, and when I could get a playback on an event I kept imagining snow. You know, like the snow you get on a T.V. or from a blank video tape. Remember video tape? Beta shoulda won that war. Oh, damn it never mind.
So now folk all you get from me is a blog about the mediocrity of fluff running through my mind. If you have taken the time to read this far? You must either be more patient than I, or you must really have nothing better to do, right now. Either way...Thank you for allowing me to waste a moment of your time that you will never get back. There are no refunds for time wasted, and nothing is going to buy you extra minutes.
All American Rejects "Dirty Little Secret"
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