All my notes about the stories of my life are either here or in my head. Problem is when I go back to detail the events I truly go away from this moment and that's not a good thing. The tough part is also not wanting to detail my breakfast, the weather, who felt who up and so on and so forth and things of that nature as John the RC might say. Previous attempts concerning the meaning of life are already done for a wiseman sayeth "if you hold it with your index finger and thumb, you're afraid of it". I used to moan in my sleep for Jane Russell and then I found out she turned into a Clint with knockers by trying to watch Mamie Stover and I was getting "hag". I may be ugly but at least I haven't gone all isentropic to excuse my malingering. Only 63 % of us are working including students and used-to-be's, so what does that say? About? Shit? Some guy said all that talk about "love what you do for a living" is a cover-up that work is work and for most workers, it's hard. The joke goes something like:the guy responding to the ad for a gyno assistant was told it pays $65,000 a year and you have to go to the county line. Is that where the office is? No, it's where the line now extends to. I think I wrote "I don't want to set the world on fire" because I pretty much was like a Zippo that needed a new flint. Talk about boner makers, flipping the lid on the Zippo and rolling the wheel all in one motion then lighting a Marlboro, man - like roll of quarters in your pocket. Now it's sip on adult water flavored with citron vodka, look at the spacious sky and offer peace and fortitude to the 63%.