Optical rectitis-that shitty outlook on life.

The weekend sucked. I tried several times to get out and do something, but all I wanted to do was kick down the neighbor’s door and break that stupid Sinatra CD that he keeps playing at bleeding-ear volume. God! I hate Sinatra. Instead I decided on changing the oil on the bikes and adjust the shocks on yours to fit my weight. I got a little satisfaction from opening the throttle and watching the prick frown from his window. I’m gonna sell one of them to Stephen. He had his stolen and he hates to take the train. I took the Speed Triple out for a long ride but it sucked. Everything sucks. Still sucks. The doc says eventually it will stop sucking and to just keep doing things until they suck less. I wish I could cry. I can still feel the need sitting there in my chest like a hunk of black shit that I can’t cough up. If you haven't noticed, I now cuss like a truck driver.

I’m going by Lilly’s grave this afternoon. Did I tell you why I didn’t burn her, too? It was for your parents. They needed somewhere to leave flowers. That’s what your dad said to me. “I need a place to leave flowers.” and then he cried and cried. And to tell the truth, I need a place to leave flowers, too.