I know, I know . . . if I really loved you I would post more

Hello blog, I see you have a new picture.  It's lovely.  Reminds me of all those mornings we watched the sun rise in Dave's attic apartment.  Is that me on the right, masturbating with a lightsaber?  

Shit, is that a jedi cloak I'm wearing?  

Oh me, oh my, what crazy times those were.  Back when I believed a plasma torch might really be capable of two foot extension without burning the wielder's face off or requiring a massive power source.  

Innocent times.

Tim forgot to mention that New York was a cesspool of sin and degradation.  

All I saw were piles of garbage and concrete.  The sound of the city--a honking horn.

The smell of street vendors and car exhaust made me nauseous.

The endless avenues of tall buildings stretching out to where the buildings were hazed behind clouds of pollution.  Even the pigeons looked miserable perched on top of gold statues.

It made me homesick for Melrose and Albia.  I would much rather hear the sound of mooing

and lawnmowers running nonstop all summer long with a noxious cloud of pollen and cow shit lingering in the air than wake up every morning with the time the temperature and the newest sitcom advertisement staring at me through my window.