Sunday, July 06, 2008

Belly...
Is what my caller ID would say if I were to call my asshole self. It's somewhat depressing, but probably more so being Saturday Night. And I'm not alone, but feeling quite unsatisfied with myself. Perhaps the coffee table just happens to have been cluttered with trash and ash long enough to summon the subconscious mothers scold from Christmas past, and the timing is unfortunately perfect. Now all I can see is a messy coffee table and an alarmingly increasing fatmosphere around my waistline. Why am I so aware that it's Saturday Night? I guess from an outsiders point of view, which I seem to value mysteriously more, I criticize every recognized moment as an example of either a tragedy of wasted talent- minus this one, which strayed and lingered a while at misplaced arrogance. I suppose at the end of the day, left up to me, I wouldn't change much more. Either increased productivity from today, or like originally hoped, from further in the past on a job well done. Until then, I linger in the what ifs for just a while, then choose the post over the xbox, and at least think about a crunch. First step, I say...