TUesDay!

Life right now is pretty ordinary. It’s cold outside, and all I do is sit around building outmoded model airplanes, such as the F-4 Phantom. Sometimes I get up enough resolve to reheat a half full can of chicken soup or go get drunk at my drukening hole. But for the most part I sit at the kitchen table dabbing olive and forest green paint into their appropriate crevices.

I used to think there was more to life. That there was something out there that was bigger than me, like a lot bigger. That life was gift meant to be grabbed the horns and lived like there’s no tomorrow.

But lately I’ve been thinking that life is more like a peanut butter sandwich that has to be choked down with no milk, because the milk went bad because it was left out of the fridge the night before because you were making Mudslides with your mistress during a prostitute coke party when your wife came home and started breaking everything and saying that she was going to kill you and then kill Kimmie and Bambi and Roxi thus making milk spoilage the least of your concerns, kind of thing. I don’t know. Maybe my ambitions were just too high. My ideas too lofty. My front door not locked like I thought.

It’s like, you think you know where you're going and how much its going to cost, but when you get there you find out your wife had lied to you and locked you out in the snow with nothing but the clothes on your back and note that wasn’t from Bambi or Kimmie or Roxi.