46 days sober. sobriety sucks. went out last night to get my rock n roll on and could neither rock nor roll. got up on stage and did a sorta crappy version of the damned's NEW ROSE. the only six pack i've seen lately is the one that's developing on my abs. up to three miles running, 2 miles on the elliptical and 1 mile on the stairmaster. the missus says i am getting too skinny and i need ass implants. and my buddy's are telling me i am turning into an emo pussy due to my lack of consumption.
and i am waiting on what could be a dream job, but the company i interviewed with has a human resources dept that is taking their sweeeeet ass time. don't they know that i am slowly dying, in anti-ci-pattttttiiiiiiooooooooooonnn?
a friday poem:
snow covered graves beckoning...waiting...like expectant mothers ready to take back what was once spilt forth.
the only true reclamation project...back into the dirt.
ps- wanna see something cool? go here. it's got isolated tracks of bass, drums, vox and geetar for songs from the clash, the who, the ramones and more. john entwhistle isolated bass!!!!!!