With Gusto

He Was a Man

He was a man who needed not feelings
He was a man who exclaimed without marks
When he was seven, he was a man who licked salt
When he was seventeen, he moved onto his neighbor's lawn
When he tasted his first drink, he was a man who was a child
At his home in 1982, he was a man who dreamed of peanuts
At a friend's house, on the patio, he was a man with a head full of ideas dating a girl who hated attention
Beginning just last week, he was a man knocking on doors
Beginning was his man's man front line for naming parks alphabetically
Fumbling for a torn bra on the bar cieling, he was a man of the hour
Fumbling his friend's penis on the camping trip: He was a man of poor taste
After his inaugeration, Gerald lauded him as a man who was the second best business accountant in the Tri-City Metropolitan Zoo

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I have to re-write my feature today. After looking over it, I don't think I'll do much differently. Why? because I don't give a damn. I can do what I want. The prof is just pushing us all towards the best possible feature, but he forgets I like a little poo in my martini. It doesn't matter to me -- it's just a little poo.
The exam is tormorrow as well. I'm not too worried about that. Reread, reread, reread. Get out the fun, and get into business mode. I'll probably go down to second story, get wired on caffeine and tea, and hit the books.

Writing thing last night was fun, although I didn't enjoy poker too much. I was tired, and losing money. The rest of the night was fun. I got reaquainted with the Feebles. I think my favourite character is the rat -- Trevor, who directed porn. Not the best career, but what's a rat to do.
Celebrated Summer Solstice by going to the beach with Semmy-Lemmy and some other folks. We played our songs.