Sun Is A Tank On Fire

It's time for a Saturday Song Salute (a day late). Yesterday after work I hurried home, took a shower, fed Snuggle McFuck Stick, grabbed my tent and bedroll, attached them to the back of my motorcycle and headed south to Lebanon, Oregon for a concert called Guitars Under the Stars. It was an outdoor concert lasting from Friday to Sunday, but I was only staying Friday night so I could see, once again, one of the greatest bands of all time: Floater. I avoided I-5 by taking the back roads through several small rural towns and provided myself with a pleasant one hour motorcycle ride to the venue. Once there, I set up my campsite next to some other friendly concert goers and proceeded to unwind via the flask of whiskey I hid inside of my bedroll. Actually, bear with me while I plug a certain brand for a minute. Over the past few months I have gradually weaned myself off of gin and switched over to drinking whiskey and in my attempt to locate a favorite bottle, I have ...

Each day that passes feels more and more like a slice of wasted time that I cannot get back. While it's true, I can't get them back, I honestly wouldn't want them anyway. That's how I've felt lately. The brightly lit red arrow still flashes through my bedroom window keeping me up at night. My skin still bubbles when I stare at it long enough and my veins now carry question marks throughout my body. I can feel them; especially when their curled tops get caught on various entryways into major organs. Sometimes, when I sneeze, strangers turn and stare at me with quizzical looks on their faces and I suddenly wonder if the question marks have learned how to escape. Have they become airborne? Are they infectious? Will everyone around me now wander aimlessly through their day questioning everything currently happening in their lives? I certainly hope so. You people need an awakening. I said "you people" haha. Fuck, that's fun. "My people" are...