I really have nothing to say, except that i should be in bad trying to sleep, or at least trying to make myself think im asleep, so that i'll be under the delusion tommarow that i have energy from a good nights sleep.

Yes sir, or ma'am or person of other, im gonna paint something tomarrow. I don't know what, or how. After all, im terrible at painting. I did paint one of 'em banners what dun they hung up at the market square aroung Christmas time, and even that was a strange and frustrating few weeks. Orange Sky that was suposed to be a freakin' sunset, but it came out looking like the waist lands of a nuclear hollacoast holiday!!!

I don't want to use any of those smilies.

Hunter S. Thompson's worn gravly voice wounders through my head telling me that Oscar Acosta is still alive, and that his brother (hunter's brother ) is living somewhere in Knoxville TN...My sister swears she saw him...maybe its true. I mean, why would hunter Lie? Especially to my head.

May God give Parish Hilton Cancer in the face...

The softs drifts of Beethoven's 9th dill the room. slowly getting louder, and powerful. The perfect soundtrack to a cripled child slowly risibg from his chair and learning to walk. As the 9th grows a bit more, his steps become confedent and firm. The roar of music swarms in Joy as the crip begins to move faster into a run, then he bursts into a speeding race across a football feils. The voices scream the harmonious german lyrics. The Crippled kid jumps and leeps with power...

Of cours, once a cripple, always a cripple, and eventually a dead head. Just like poor Christifer Reeves, who's head died years after his body. If there's anyone who deserves a Beethoven's 9th entrance to eternaty, i guess it would be him. But where's my beethoven. Where is my Beeth Oven!

Freude, Schöner Götterfunken,
Tochter aus Elysium,
Wir betreten feuer-trunken,
Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!

Deine Zauber binden wieder,
Was die Mode streng geteilt;
Alle Menschen werden Brüder,
Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.

Wem der grosse Wurf gelungen,
Eines Freundes Freund zu sein,
Wer ein holdes Weib errungen,
Mische seinen Jubel ein!

Ja, wer auch nur eine Seele
Sein nennt auf dem Erdenrund!
Und wer's nie gekonnt, der stehle
Weinend sich aus diesem Bund!

Freude trinken alle Wesen
An den Brüsten der Natur;
Alle Guten, alle Bösen
Folgen ihrer Rosenspur.

Küsse gab sie uns und Reben,
Einen Freund, geprüft im Tod;
Wollust ward dem Wurm gegeben,
Und der Cherub steht vor Gott.

Froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen
Durch des Himmels Prächt'gen Plan,
Laufet, Brüder, eure Bahn,
Freudig, wie ein Held zum Siegen.

Freude, schöner Götterfunken,
Tochter aus Elysium,
Wir betreten feuer-trunken,
Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!

Deine Zauber binden wieder,
Was die Mode streng geteilt;
Alle Menschen werden Brüder,
Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.

Seid umschlungen, Millionen!
Diesen Kuss der ganzen Welt!
Brüder über'm Sternenzelt
Muss ein lieber Vater wohnen.

Ihr stürzt nieder, Millionen?
Ahnest du den Schöpfer, Welt?
Such'ihn über'm Sternenzelt!
Ãœber Sternen muss er wohnen.


I can only asume nobody is going to read this. I've writen nothing of any importance. And why? Just to write, and to give my mind a good exsercize before i lay it down to stop working for a few hours. The moon looks beautiful tonight, as it does everynioght that you can see it. Tomarrow night, i may climb a hill to see if i can touch it, or at least ask it a few questions. I imagian the moon loves to watch the ocean as it moves it softly across the earth, untill he pushes it too far into asia. Ha Ha Ha i made a tastless tsunomi joke...

i cna't post this, it's a peice of Crap. I should get it puplished in a book about my memories, like Brother Bob did...

God bless you Mr. Tony Clifton...

goodnight to the moon...

My friend, you need a blog.