Yapping To The Moon

It's 7

On a Friday night

And I am about to crawl into bed

And put on an old college lecture

And play Pokemon

Until I fall asleep

At 32 years old

I can't tell if this is peaceful 

Or very depressing 

Kind of feels like both 

I did finish the first draft of a poetry collection earlier 

And had a few glasses of wine

And then went to dinner 

By myself 

Where I had a few beers

While I read a pretty good fantasy Novel

Of course I ripped the bong when I got home

I look good tonight 

Really good

Way too handsome 

No good could come from looking this good 

So I might as well get on my sweatpants 

And crawl into bed 

And play my game 

While almost listening to a free lecture 

By Michael Sugrue

You the man, Michael 

Your lectures are fantastic 

I've almost listened to all of them four times now

And this guy has a shit ton on YouTube 

Check him out 

Honestly, give the guy a listen

. . . It's a real bummer that I sent The Writer to hell

And The Fighter to heaven.

I don't really know what to do with myself when I feel like this

I should really go get those guys . . . 

It's crazy to read over old poetry

Like, who was that guy that wrote that shit?

Some of it's pretty funny.

And some of it is almost good.

But, jeez, that kid was sad back then. And angry. 

I don't feel angry anymore. I don't feel the fire at all. My competitive spirit has disappeared. It's just . . . Gone. And without it, I feel so strange. 

My body hurts. Let me tell you something seriously true, my body really does hurt. And, I am so tired of it hurting. It’s my foot this time. This damn right foot feels like it'll split in two with every step. It's always something. Always something . . .

No one should be this handsome and this talented. What a curse. How funny is it that I just waste it away? Hysterical. Imagine the luckiest guy you've ever met . . . Are you picturing me? You should be. 

I think I'll go to sleep now. Guess I won't play Pokemon. Dammit. Wrote myself to sleep. 

It's now 7:26 on a Friday night. 

Sweet dreams, Kids.

. . . Oh yeah, maybe tomorrow I'll go get those guys out of heaven and hell. I really should. Maybe I'll do it Sunday, if I have time. Let me tell you another true thing—true things are rare, but you knew that, didn't you?—this rare true thing is . . . I should really go get those two out of heaven and hell. I really should . . . You don't think I should just continue to leave them cooking over there, do you? . . . Yeah, yeah, I'll get them out as soon as this damn poetry book is done. Just another day or two . . .

CH 3/15/25