yesterday, today and tomorrow

What the fuck happened to yesterday and why is tomorrow so pissed off at today?

Yesterday is pissed because yesterday knows it’s all but forgotten. What really pisses off tomorrow is that it may never happen and if it does happen it’s today and tomorrow is still left waiting.

Time is a funny thing. Not in the true sense of funny but in more of an ironic way.

I heard someone say today that, “they have too much time on their hands.”

What? How can you have too much time? There is never enough time. I told them I’d be happy to take the time off their hands. I mean really, who can’t use more time.

They looked at me like I was crazy. “I can’t give you my time, it’s my time, not yours,” they said.

“Come on,” I said, “you said you had too much. I’m just trying to help you lighten your time load.”

“Piss off, I don’t have time for this” they said as they walked away shaking their head.

“What,” I said. “You just said you had too much time on your hands and now you say you don’t have time for this? Make up your fucking mind you time pyscho. I mean really, it would be time well spent.”

They picked up their pace and continued to walk away.

For a moment I thought about clubbing them in the head and knocking them out and taking their time. But then I looked at my watch and realized I didn’t have the time so I let them go.

Time is a relentless bastard. Like it’s cousin gravity but worse. At least gravity is predictable….for the most part. Time is a real fucker. Just when you think you have plenty of it you don’t.

That’s why it’s important to make the most of time. If you assume time it will bite you in the ass. When time does present itself to you, you need to hop on that motherfucker and ride it for all it’s worth because it’s today, not tomorrow and not yesterday. Hop on today and enjoy. Here’s to tomorrow becoming today.

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Huh?

There are so many things I want to write about but I haven’t thought of them yet.

Sometimes I do think of them but then, when I try to remember what it was I was thinking about, I forget.

Sometimes I forget what I forgot. That is really confusing. I mean how can I possibly remember when I can’t remember what I forgot in the first place.

What the hell was I doing? Oh yeah, trying to remember what I haven’t thought about because I want to write about it.

Write about it? How can I write about it if I haven’t thought it yet?

Maybe I already thought about it but I can’t remember thinking about it.

So if I think I thought about it but couldn’t remember thinking I thought about it did I really think I thought about thinking it?

I think I shouldn’t think so much.

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What’s in the Till?

I have lots of empty pages that I feel the need to fill.

I have lots of pens filled with ink waiting for me to spill.

My doctor says don’t worry and gives me another pill.

My empty coffee sits near the window, yes it’s on the sill.

I push it to the edge and try to recover because it’s a thrill.

I wish people didn’t feel the need to hurt and to kill.

When the voices in my head all talk at once it’s a shrill.

The chances of them stopping is less than nill.

Just shut the hell up be quiet, be still.

It’s your choice not ours even though it’s your will.

My life is a promise that I never will fulfill.

I wonder why my parents didn’t name me Dennis?

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What the $#@#?

Holy crap. I was just about to fall asleep on this Tuesday night when I heard a knock on the door. Hmmm, I thought to myself, that’s kind of odd. I go to the door and look out and see nothing.

What the heck, I am sure I heard a knock. I open the door to get a good look around and then I see him. Leaning against the house with some funky amazonian head dress on his little invisible pachyderm head.

Yep, Bob. That crazy, miniature, talking elephant. The same Bob who disappeared from my life over 3 years ago. I think last time I saw Bob he left me in Miami after hijacking a Gulfstream jet with a bevy of hot blondes.

“Bob you little sonofabitch,” I said as he ran up and hugged my leg.

Bob smiled and stood back and said, “Pat, go grab a full bottle of whiskey and you might as well call in sick for the next few days. I’ve got an incredible tale to tell you about a plane crash and then being lost in the Amazon region and then my soul journey and resurrection with this Peruvian shaman.”

“Now where the hell is that whiskey?”

Pouring us a couple of solid snifters of Macallan 25 (a bottle I purposely hid away years ago for a moment like this). I sat back and listened as Bob began his story. A story that I will share in the days and weeks to come.

Damn it’s nice to have Bob home.

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Imagination

“The power of imagination makes us infinite.” A quote from John Muir.

So folks, get your imagination on today. Have some fun, explore and most importantly, imagine.

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Solar Porn

CME, otherwise known as coronal mass ejection…..hehehe. It sounds so dirty. The sun produced a large CME on Tuesday.

Maybe just maybe there’s an aurora borealis in our future.

http://www.gi.alaska.edu/AuroraForecast/Alaska/2014/01/09 check it out

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Are you really that stupid

I have a question for you. Do you really think by getting a foot off my rear bumper at 9pm on an icy, dark road that I am going to increase my speed to accommodate your impatience? Really? Somewhere in the dark anterior cingulate cortex (ACC) of your brain, you know, the part of your brain where your self control has gone to die, there are synaptic misfires lighting up your corpus callousness.

Let’s try this again. I am going 40 mph in a 35 mph section of the road, you are a foot off my rear bumper thinking it’s going to motivate me to speed up. Hahahaha. My friend, you are so wrong. Two thoughts go through my head:

1) Apply the brakes, have you rear-end me and spend an hour waiting for the police to fill out paper work or,

2) Simply take my foot off the gas and begin a slow reduction in speed. 39, 38…….35……32…….30…….28.

I opt for #2

I figure at 28 mph there is a direct correlation between my slowing down and the increase in your blood pressure. At this rate it’s even money that in the next mile blood starts squirting out of your eyes because of your rage.

I can do this all night.

So get on my ass you nascar drafting douche bag. Tuck yourself right up against my license plate and know this.

I am in front of you and I will, I promise, drive you fucking crazy. Hehehehehehehehe

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