F a t h e r L u k e ’s dot Blawg

My ass hurts from sitting in a chair all day.

Guess what. I wrote something today.
I’m a writer.

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Okay,
Farther than Luke

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Okay,
Father Luke

It requires a great effort to convince myself that I am now as old as those who seemed so old to me when I was young. - Andre Gide circa 1930

And time, the trusted companion who now walks beside me each day, has taken the place of death, who once breathed heavy, foul, hot breath constantly upon my neck. I don’t know when it happened. It just did. And I look to this new day without any expectations.

Well.

Maybe one. I’d like to have more time for poker, my woman, and my writing.

In the meantime I got shit to do.

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Okay,
Father Luke

When I am at work, I laugh my balls off.

I spend all my time doing nothing there,
and I laugh, laugh, laugh.

Laugh because it feels good to laugh.
There isn’t anything else. There is no hope,
there is no salvation, there isn’t even a new day,
just this sad old one waiting to be yesterday.

I sent the Lawyers their retainer fees today.
$200 bucks.

Bye by Tax Stimulus. . . (sniff)

Easy dot com - easy dot go.

Shakespeare said; First thing, lets kill all the lawyers.
Good writing transcends time.

That’s all I got today.
I won’t tell you I’m finding
that love is necessary.

First rule: Show don’t tell.

You’ll see.
You’ll see.

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Okay,
Father Luke

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Okay,
Father Luke

*koff*

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Okay,
Father Luke

Who the fuck knows what happened on these days.
I was working, and that fucks everything else all to hell.

My legs hurt - see RLS mentioned everywhere else in this Blawg.

I love my iPod. It’s still new to me.
Music, and not much else fills my time.

I still owe a letter to Hosh, to Victor, to Kim, to . . .

Here. Play poker with me. . .

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Okay,

I get email from people all the time.

Funny.

For such a private person, I have always been somewhat of a public figure. It’s always been this way. I never sought it out, and I won’t turn it away.

Whenever I get letters from women, I always take a moment to imagine what I think they might look like…

Who knows what kind of shit bags have me in their sights.

I get them all. They’ll write. Some visit. Often they borrow money. All of them turn right around and call me names. I love my life. Woof !

So. I bought one of these:

It’s a 60 gig iPod, with a black leather case. Fucking rawks, baby! My life again has a sound track . . . ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . . Say it with me:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !

Music fucking rules. . .

Love ya.

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Okay,

Poker. It’s why I get out of bed.

I finally had two days off, so I played all weekend. Lost some, won some. Laundry happened.

I bought some stuff for my fish tank. It has a new Fluval filter.

Me at the Pet Store:
Hey, man. What’s the best kind of filter?

Kid working at the pet store:
Fluval.

Easy enough. I also bought a plant in a container, a snail, and a vacuum/water changer combo. My big snail is wearing out. I think it will live another week.

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Okay,

I worked today. Everything else is a fucking blur.
I know I did something, but who the fuck cares.
I also worked, and that ruined it.

One day I will no longer work Saturdays.
I think begining next Saturday I will see what that’s like.

Here is Lucinda William’s favorite Songwriter.
And one of mine.

Ladies and Gentlemen:

Malcolm Holcombe

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Okay,