Every day. EVERY DAY. EV ER Y DAAAAAAAY!

Hi, it's me again. That guy you don't know... but you're starting to. If you're not sure whether this is a good thing or not, do not fear; this only proves that you are sane. For those who can't live without me: COME OVER HERE YOU CRAZY FUCKS AND GIMME SOME LOVE!

Strangely enough, it is ridiculously easy to find new things to write about every day. The weirdest part about it is that I pretty much haven't done anything at all but sleep and go to work, so where are all the ideas coming from? That was hypothetical. Please don't answer that. Whatever snarky response you had in mind, I want you to take it and flush it down the pooper with your dreams of being the first Martian.

Like all great people, inspiration comes from within. I wrote a poem on this once. I was at a writing course. As I sat there and listened to whatever stupid crap everybody was saying, I started to develop a deep hatred for them and, by association, everything they talked about. I knew I was being an asshole, but alas, I could not help myself. Of course, it wasn't like they could tell. I was just sitting in the back minding my own business, but inside... inside I was shooting laserbeams out from eyes and melting their heads.

At some point, we took a break to think about something or other and write down ideas for stuff maybe. I used this opportunity to write a beautiful little poem of hatred. Here it is!

Now presenting... bah bah bah baaaaaaaah! Untitled! It really is untitled. I didn't care enough to give it a name. Feel free to name it in the comments below, or don't.


I have no idea what these people are talking about.
They all look to each other and nod in unison.
I sit in the corner, only half-listening.

I stare at the ceiling, then I stare at the wall.
They speak of transitions, and senses, and Fall.
School, nostalgia, color, pumpkins, leaves, and all.

They are groping this world for a place to begin.
To write in this way should be considered a sin.

Because every real poet knows
the words come from within.

Well wasn't that just swell? I know I enjoyed it. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. That's it for today. I'm going to slice up some beets in the backyard with a chainsaw while screaming maniacally and hope someone sees me. Bye now!