Portland, Oregon December 2008

I gotta start fucking writing. Fucking spellcheck fucks with my head. (Is there a way to set it so it doesn’t underline my fucking mistakes as I write?)

Anyway, about writing…(If I knew how to type I suppose it would be an bit easier to get started.)
But, since this is basically a stream of thought process at this point (and I can’t type nearly as fast as I would like), I guess I will just have to make do and hopefully, learn as I go. (Although, the daunting thought of how insanely long this could take to get down, intimidates as it well as it inspires.)

Firstly, I would like to express my sincere devotion to the concept of once –and-for-all (re) creating the run-on-sentence. The most under rated of all the grammatical errors lies in wait, seeking only to carry on with a sense of eternal energy, hell-bent to set course on a path to righteousness (or some such nonsense).

That out of the way, I would need, perhaps to strong a word, to implore that the reader read not a message through the fog or some sort of reason behind the type. Only that it may be a story. Plain and simple. (Though maybe a bit skewed!)

So, without further Ado,

Here we go…

I was born a poor white child (technically, maybe not poor, I just feel the need to set a sense of intensity). Set apart from my brother and sister by ten years and a different father, and I at once assumed a feeling of individuality. Although my first years are recalled with no significant (you know, rape, religion, pain in general) negative memories to speak of, I am sure there are some screwy moments tucked in, with the fog. But, this is not meant to be a tragedy, merely a rambling recollection of a crazy fun, sometimes sad and sometimes poignant, quickly fading memory bank of time, as seen by me.



Portland, Oregon December 2008 (Present day)

Good Jesus, thanks to God for warmth (or maybe more specifically, checks and the ability to fake funds long enough to create 50 gallons of heating oil.) Arctic Blast ’08!! That’s what they’re calling it on the local news. In fact, most of the local stations in Portland have been showing continuous coverage of such dramatic events such as scores of people getting chains and snow tires at tire stores, kids throwing snowballs at each other and frozen roads that beckon fearless drivers. Lucky for me, I had the good fortune to be able to float a check (more on this later) to the oil company in order to get the minimum requirement of 50 gallons of heating oil delivered to my house earlier in the week. I can rejoice in this, as my home remains a constant 69 degrees as compared to the 35 degrees it was before I got the furnace going again. Actually, my roommate had, several weeks earlier, dropped a dump truck full of used concrete form in front of my house for me to cut and use as firewood. Ah, the glorious smell of burning Masonite, 2 x 4’s, and plywood will forever remind me of winter now. Please note, my experience in this has gained me the valuable knowledge I now pass to you…. Fireplaces are not meant to heat your house. Sounds crazy, I know, but the heat just goes up the chimney and the heat will not penetrate more than 3 feet into the house without the help of a fan, which also creates a vacuum for the smoke to stream into the house. You MUST invest in an insert for the fireplace or a woodstove as; both of these will allow heat transference to occur.

Compost Matter

This finds me (us) wondering WHat (pronouncing the H with extra blowhardedness) in the world to I might have to say that anyone would ever want to hear (or read, more accurately)?

The answer: Quite a bit, I imagine.

Exactly the specific thing or thought I express seems to not mean as much as just keeping it as focused aroung the title as possible. (I am a firm believer in the run-on sentence, so best to get over that now.) I suppose, by disecting the title (which I just made-up under the pressure of having to think of a title to continue setting up an account) I may have stumbled upon my perfect blogathy. (See, you can just make up words!) I also figure, as such, that everything is made of energy (or matter) expanding always since the big-bang. So that, in conclusion, I wouldhope to have a place where matter (thoughts, ideas, emotions, art, anger, dissapointment) might be recycled for compost.