"Get some sleep."

I probably hear that at least once a day from random people. Actually, one time I did get, "You look sad," from a girl at a bar, which made me laugh hysterically, because of course, I couldn't have been happier.

Sleep, in my eyes is overrated. But then again, my eyes are tired, so go figure. But here is my question: why are people so concerned about my sleeping habits? I know the gut reaction is, well they just simply care about you, but if that's the case, wouldn't it make more sense to work with someone on his lifestyle? I mean if a man is a Christian, do people, in all seriousness come up to him and say, you should really get some buddha in your life? Well sure, possibly, but the point is that I like staying up at night, so why is it that people who sleep a lot, need to force their habits upon me? I don't cal my friends up in the middle of the night and say, "GOD, you are missing SO much. You should wake up."

No, of course I don't. I do have an answer to why I stay up, writing the night away on existentially absurd Camus induced plays and chapters of a book about a misguided elf. Actually Dylan Thomas has the answer. He just says it so much better than I ever will. I'm no poet, I know it.

In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.

Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.

yeah, take THAT.

Incidentially, has any seen the movie Chelsea Walls?

eh . . . y'all are probably sleeping. I suppose it is that time of the month.

Okay, now that I got that out of the way . . .

I can't talk long for I have to finish a play tonight. The problem is that mine eyes are bigger than my stomach in the completely metaphorical sense. I want to make a statement about the state of humanity when all it really comes down to is a story about a man sitting on a park bench who is apparently about to get shot if he moves, and a man who wants him out of the seat because of a woman he is meeting there, who he's never seen before. It's a classic story . . . maybe. What will happen? Will the man get shot because he's going to move? Is he simply nuts? If he does get shot, what does that say about my theories that you are in total control of your own destiny? If he gets shot, that means that destiny will always override any idea of free will that you have. If he gets shot, it's a tragedy. It's also very accurate. In a way, if you never want to leave because if you do, you think that you might get shot, chances are, one day, someone will shoot you.

Perhaps it's all perspective. We are never victims, but everyone acts that way. Are you trapped? If you think you are, you probably are. If you don't think you are, get up and walk around. Freedom is a beautiful thing if only we could accept the absurdity of it.

Ok first order of business is this: does anyone know why my laptop monitor goes white everyonce in a while? It's a fucking annoying, I'll tell you that much.

I am human and dying everyday.

Now if you are a Christian, as am I (well okay, I think Jesus was the first socialist badass, therefore Christian? sure why not), you'd get excited about the eternal dive, or rather the eternal drive, no wait, the eternal . . . ride? Maybe. Let's go with that. Basically, it's not a bad thing.

The point is this, my elmwood strippers, I have just gotten glasses for the first time in my life. My body is decaying, but the beauty here is that when I want to go to Burger King instead of McDonalds, for a shake if you will, I can now read the signs clearly before I pull into Wendys. Thanks to my poor eyesight, I always have to settle for a damn frosty . . . but no more my friends. They can take that spoon and shove it.

And have you seen these billboard things? They actually have words on them! It's really sweet. You know the one's with those two guys with their heads popping up? Well apparently (it says, as I've just found out) they're lawyers! And they represent injured people in Buffalo!

Who knew?

So I got to thinking . . . a couple of you who do read my rants and diatribes might have once wondered, "Why stickboy?" Is that a euphemism for something else? Might be. Is it symbolic? Most likely, but maybe not. Is it the icon for the ostensible saboteur of the left wing? No, that, it is not. I have a different icon for that, HA! I jest. I'm really a nice guy actually, I just have opinions, alas.

Well okay, I'm here to sastify, as Clarence Carter says. This (below) is why. (disclaimer: the "stick it" is merely a play on words and in no way represents the thoughts and feelings of said journal writer in regards to his comrads. It's suposed to be funny in a dry sort of way.)



Well that clears it up, doesn't it?

As you were.

(incidentally, the weird looking guy to the right is my rendition of Puck, or Robin Goodfellow.)