My Place In Time

          I'm pretty bored nowadays so this is where the last string is. To write bullshit that wraps around the epicenter of, whatever. Great start. I'm not going to delete anything I write from now on because what I usually write first is what I really mean and want to say. It'll be weird and not constructed well but who cares? Maybe you, maybe me, but definitely not 'them'.

          I'm in Miami and a hurricane is approaching. That's fantastic because yesterday, Friday, August 24th 2012 was the 20th anniversary of the lovely Hurricane Andrew that I was also in Miami for. I was a grand total of 3 years old. I don't remember anything until I was 5, but I remember when I was 3 on August 24th 1992. I was locked in a closet with my brother, my cousin, probably my mother, and my dad. Sorry Mom. I should have remembered you but the memory is faint. Your heavenly comfort as a mother has always been a given so it sometimes blurs. But my father, I saw. I remember seeing him at such a young age because he was, literally, holding up the wall. It was jumping up and down while the roof was separating from the top of the wall which seemed to be laughing without rhythm.  The only words I remember speaking was to my brother which was: 'Hey, my ass is wet.' Yea, it was that intense.

         Hopefully Mr. Isaac will be just as entertaining without the bs. I want a real show. You can't expect me to be satisfied by showing yourself when I was 3, the cartoons I was watching were just as fascinating. What the heck happened to Barney? Drug trafficking?

         As I look around my room I notice the outside shutters I closed an hour ago. It's a sealant. An enclosed prison shielding me from God knows what. Maybe if I do enough push-ups, strap myself to a tree, I'll be able to show who's really the boss; Mr. Rick Ross. Why does my 60 lb less brother wonder how many push-ups I can do? I think it's an ailment to decide whether he's fit or not. I've shown him a great example of the failure he's running from. God bless his skinny soul.

         What an optical allowance beer labels are. Anyway. Given my state, I believe writing this should give you a glimpse of where I'm at in my life. BLAHBLAHBLAH Today I saw a dinosaur, a tyrannosaurus rex to be exact, throw a first pitch at a baseball game on tv. Before that I was nonchalantly enjoying some bogus highlight reel of first pitches. I saw famous people throw 30 feet to the left of the plate, I saw the Kardasians throw hard sliders, I saw Keith Stone throw the perfect pitch with the perfect release, I saw George Bush, Bill Clinton, Barak Obama throw perfect strikes... I SAW A TYRANNOSURUS REX THROW A BASEBALL OFF THE MOUND TO A CATCHER. PERIOD! I was amazed! How?! WHY? WHAT?! How did they, wait a minute. Why did they have a Tyrannosur.. WHAT THE HELL? It came and went so fast my only reaction was to consider I had mistakenly taken acid with my coffee this morning.. The cup was abnormally small. NO! I saw what I saw!

         And that was your first lesson on babble writting. It doesn't matter what you write or how you write it. As long as it makes completely no sense, you're golden. HENSE the reason for this Blog. For all of you (singular) who read this blog, I hope you take a ugly angry dump tomorrow. PCE.

LB