Thursday, September 27, 2012

Wasting away again in Margaritaville...

I know it's been a while folks but I have that urge to start writing things down again, must be that seasonal weather change we get down here in the sunshine state when the daily temperature changes from 91 degrees to 84 degrees or what I like to call: WINTER.

I can't explain why I stop blogging and writing but during times of excessive creativity I tend to shut down in the middle of it and have a strong desire to go away and hide.  During my seclusion I put away pen and paper and try to clear the noggin of any type of word worthy material that could be used for a laugh or two on this here blog. Why? No bloody idea but the thought of writing something funny every day makes my head hurt and I am talking about the big head which at my age is now the important one.

I found an old journal that had some of my thoughts from 2008 and came across the following piece, I have mellowed since then and much of my anger has dissipated with age but back in 2008 I might have left this person legless. So here old journal entry from April 2008 to get me back in the swing of writing.

Many thanks to my blogging friend The Unbearable Banishment for his e-mail as to my current whereabouts and state of mind, thank you again for the swift kick in the arse and for pulling me out if my margarita haze.
Cheers, Sausage...

April 2008

Son of a bitch....was what I usually muttered under faded breath when in sight of the bastard. 

Daring and noble he is to annoy such a beast, I wonder if his courage is fueled by a similar disgust as is mine.
Smugness and arrogance blended to perfection then worn as a rancid perfume to tug at the patience of myself.
If alive in other times it would be him and me face to face, pistols at dawn or joust to joust. Two gladiators 1 death.

I hate this person, no wait I loath him. This man has been a thorn in my side for many years and has tested my patience on more than one occasion. I have never laid hands on him but every day is one day closer to my giant hands wringing his neck until he begs for mercy while his life drains from him.
I am not a violent man and I would never lay hands on another again unless of course it was in defense of offspring or betrothed but the mere sight of this person brings out an evil in me that is best suited for mask wearing machete wielding monsters. Why? I have no idea.