(harrows of outrageous fortune)

My brain is some tomorrow coming down to save the day when the rains settle in to wash away the sins we missed these years of trying to fight some good fight in the name of less pompous old men (for their time at least) for reasons that escape me tonight as they have before and ought to for most of those goddamn years ahead when as these stories go i should finally learn my lesson and make some fucking sense of why i stumble blind and hopeful through the world the way i do. why i smile shaking and soaking wet without a dime (but a few smokes) to my name. why i sing, half-tuneless, against the doldrums of living a stiff while i complete whatever the fuck it is i happen to be thinking, plotting, scheming, pissing away in a vice or three (four told, by last count).

Why i let life bite me in the ass and why i could really give a damn when i find time to lay my head down long enough to give my mind a rest from this rat-a-tapping idiot box or less sinister enterprises.

Heh. heh. heh.

A few minutes into ambled self-exploration and i'm already more concerned with the punk rock songs pounding my runt of a ghetto box.

Just as well.

Monday's just no day for a kick in the eye if it hasn't swung first for the teeth.