It don't matter where you bury me.

I'm sitting around on a saturday night eating cheesburgers and getting ready to write. That's all and that's it.
But don't get me wrong, life isn't anything dull.
Earlier tonight I was looking at myself in 20 years and you know what, I liked allright what I saw. I might have shaved the beard and I do think cognac tastes like sewer water but all in all its all right.
I'm getting ready to write.
But not a post. For the first time in a month, my god has been a month, I'm going to write something longer than the length of my hand.
This is what I'm going to write.
I'm going to write about this fellow. This fellow who used to think he was really all that and knew it all and he didn't need no god telling him what to do.
A blasphemer. That's what he was.
He blasphemied most anything that you'd spell with a capital. Didn't buy any of it and said so. Was a real thorn in the side of tradition.
Well anyways, this fellow, its been some time now since he walked away, and now he's coming back.
And he's coming back crawling.
He still doesn't buy it, doesn't believe it any more then when he left, but now he knows he needs it. And he's begging it for mercy.
He no longer can handle the markless desert.
And having been there and seen it all and tried it out, he now realises that it doesn't so much matter whats real and what isn't as it does what works and what doesn't.
He learned what doesn't work, and so now he wants to come back.
That's it.
- posted by Sigurd2/01/2007 09:36:00 PM