hi as a kite would say to sparrows

The weather outside is truly delicious. The sun rising over the fecund hills of northeast Georgia is warm and there is a wet coolness hanging half-heartedly to the air due to a day and a half of rain. It's been unnormally warm and I dig the unnormal similar to the way a byte digs electricity. So I'm just going to bang out a few more unorthodox phrases then throw my skinny body against the ever renewing rage against gravity. My concentration is low because I stayed up to five am selecting my 45 tracks for my new Finetune playa which makes really suspectible to just about any fat-bottomed girl sweeping me off my South boy feet. Do I have a hard time making decisions? Gimme a few minutes on that, Major. True, this blog descibes me as fast. Fast in action, slow in thought. Heck, I'm so fast I'll take your whole family to Wal-mart, leave you on planet Dollar General. So why don't I have that nifty player on the blog page? Heck, if I know. It is being listened to at the moment but I've "copy to clipboard[ed]" my little keys to exhaustion.
This is the first weekend since September that my little self hasn't been headed toward or standing outside a college football stadium. At the first game of the season, a skinny red-headed female who knew football sat next to me. Tell me that you love defense at a football game and I'll buy you Dairy Queen banana splits for the rest of your life. Which reminds me that last night one of the dreams about giving the head coach an earfull. Needless to say, his performance is disappointing. Nobody's perfect. So we're all just swimming around seeking out an acceptable island of imperfection to erect our broadcast towers of self on.
She doesn't even need a drummer to march. The scar beneath her eye is more about the beating her opponent took. She'll start it and she'll end it. Her path is narrow and best left clear. It hurts most of the time to reach in with intended help and end up getting cut. The first one isn't always the deepest. Maybe she is just a mean, little girl, some soulless wildcat twisting toward total destruction. Maybe she's just tuned in to a special frequency inaudible to the mass of "hand me the sign and show me the arrow." She makes the "us," "them," and "me" categories confusing. Maybe that's her purpose.

Know well what leads you forward and what holds you back, and choose the path that leads to wisdom - Buddha