Tom Cruise' Boots

I have been having some big trouble getting to sleep and staying asleep. I told Christine that it did not feel like anxiety- at least not the traditional want to scoop my eyes out after pinching every assface who wronged me that week or this lifetime kind of feeling, just a kind of bodily tension, as if I had muscle in my body or something. So I had this really weird conversation with my legal drug dealer and he suggested the BIGGIES like trazadone ( to me that truly sounds like the drugs they give to actual crazy- chop up your grandpa people). He explained the uber sedating effects of the trazadone-ish drugs and then we just ended up coming back to clonk-you- on the-head- my standard drug of the evening. I had not had any clonk- you- on the head for a good few months; exhaustion and self-loathing was boring me enough to make me sleep at night until last month. This morning I was in this deep sleep and all of a sudden Tom Cruise and I are in this really swank hotel suite. He is too short- as he is- and way to all American boy- but he completely bonked my brains out. I mean it was teeth gnashing, eyeball rolling, back scratching boot knockin. When I woke up and remembered how mad Katie Holmes had been because Tom Cruise was bangin someone else, I wondered if Joel was going to be mad too. So I made Joel french toast.

My biggest fear is that blogs will be a part of our archaeological record.

Whoo hoo! My first Ad on the anti-blog- it works, it works! And people are going to send me actual money - I will post how much money I am making.

I think I am going to try "monetizing" this anti-blog as an experiment to see what Google thinks would be good ads for my anti-blog. The following words correlate to the kind of ads I am hoping to see on my page- this is not actual content so no need to read this: agriculture, itching, burning, bloating, oily, flaking.

Everybody poops- well maybe not

The anti-blogger. This is what the world wants and needs. Not the technicolor blog with the pictures that I took that prove that I am sex-worthy; not the uber-spielkus qualifiers that give away everything private to get a fan base; not the side postings / load o' other people's blogs that outsmart their very own blog but must be blogged about in order to have maximum symbiosis; not the inner most thoughts that actually prove to be the very reason to keep reading them in hope that you don't come away with "that's it?"- that's your mark on the world or excuse me, "blogosphere"?

I thought about posting the pictures of the blogs that you should not read or think about- the ones that will somehow ( I know it) suck brain cells out of your eyes because the drivel factor becomes so viscous that it bleeds through your corneas. But rather- I will ramble about things that are getting way over blogged and things that could still use a good blogging. Today I begin with constipation. Constipation is the perfect metaphor for people who are trapped in explaining sexual re-birth, finding their inner whomever, and being what they never thought they could be. I chose constipation because constipation is that very state of needing to do something that everyone else is doing- maybe even billions of people are doing what you need to do when you are constipated right this very minute- and you can only do it if you take a different path than what others are doing to do it: you cannot shit because you do not have the basic things that other people have to make it happen naturally. I am not saying that the constipated should feel bad about being constipated- but I do advise that hyperfocusing on crap-ping is not going to help you crap. It might make you feel like you will crap- or help you imagine crapping- but I don't know if talking about and thinking about crapping makes you crap. I could be wrong.

So: If you are having a re-birth- is it that you want to have it and invite others to see it- or is it that you are not really having it and maybe if you blog about it and connect with others who are blogging about it- it will make your rebirth have that almighty eyeball popping mouth opening sweat drying, finally I crapped feeling?