Ok so here is an entry into the unlimited potential of forks, boredom, and photoshop.  And yes I realize that his fingers are missing in the second picture.  The infinity effect is harder than I thought it was going to be, but hey, whatever I'll get around to fixing it some day.  I guess I got a little less bored these last few days.

There is an internal struggle going on right now.  It is one of those classic good v evil.  In this case it has manifested itself as cigarettes v mountain bike.  And while I suppose I can maintain both activities one has to eventually become dominant in my mind.  I guess I always have to make things difficult.  Oh and for my faithful 3-5 readers I realize that this is kind of divergent from the typical what the fuck is he talking about type post and will probably lose me at least 2 of you.  So lonely in the blog world... like that old police song so lonely so lonely...but not really so on the other side of blog world is blogger, which reminds me of frogger, which reminds me of my childhood, which reminds me of that time I rode my bicycle into a Winnibago (sic?)  chipped all the front teeth in my month.  God that was a stupid moment in a life of stupid moments.  Hmmm... I want sushi.  Is it weird to want sushi when it is so cold out, shouldn't I be buying into the Campbell's soup commercials right about now?  You know the ones where the snowman turns into the little boy.  I don't know am not sure about the validity of this advertisement.  I mean come on.  I would never let a strange snowman into my house.  What's worse give it soup!?! what the fuck come'on,  It's not like I had a fuckin vat of the shit lying around on the back burner.  What is this a weigh station for wayward snowmen?  screw that action.  Fuckin snowmen lining up to eat me out of house and home.  And what's more what if you get one of those bas ass snowmen like the one Lipton hired.   That guy would knife me, steal my lady, and THEN eat my food.  and how do you kill a snowman anyway???  with a hair dryer?  better hope that fucker doesn't have some iced tea handy or you my friend are FUCKED!!!  So I suppose sushi isn't the worst idea after all. 

Please note that sean's opinion of snowmen does not represent the Campbell's Soup corporation, or the Lipton Tea Empire in any manner and in fact is contrary to the general public's feelings toward to relatively easy going creatures known as snowmen, and as we understand it Sean is to be extradited to a small Norwegian town to be stoned for the ruthless debasement of snowmen contained in the above post...but I digress.

pieces 

Something's got to go, Something's got to give

Six hours into the steps and I had no idea...none my mind, a blank, and so I decided (somewhat hesitantly) to keep walking.  The familiar hydraulics of the second story parking space savers slowly faded into the graffiti soaked sides of what? warehouses, maybe.  Meth labs? hope not.  Not that anyone anywhere pays any heed to individuals walking unless there is a wallet to be lifted, aaa I mean the intention to do so.  There is always a wallet to be lifted a gift for your younger brother, some quick cash is not an answer it is an absolute myth money has to be deep, untouchable, unobtainable for it to maintain it's underlying value.  How does the mind work, well sometimes, I suppose, but what makes us take that first step on an entirely pointless path, pacing the early evening into the midnight blues, blues in both sense. Blues is the answer to the preceding question.  Ah yes low lying valleys the ebb in the tide the subsiding dawn, when day is too harsh, with empty white light.  Winter sun searing into the pavement in the plaster shines like a headache at 8 am.  No warmth from that weakened orb, just a guide through the daily struggle, taking comfort out of those hours in which consciousness resides right behind every step. 

But it is indeed after dusk, and I am walking, and I probably had a point.  Some kind of revelation, some Flannery O'Conner moment that can only be justified by the subtle religious themes streaming through each and every one of her concise pre packaged stories, the Moral is...faith in God apparently.  It is all St. Augustine of the modern age.  Whatever.  Though I have my beliefs, and I relish them need them, bleed for them I can only believe that we are responsible for saving ourselves, and it isn't easy, It never was, that lie has been planted and at this point almost 30 I am demanding that it be uprooted.  Fucking A what is true anymore.  Have I who I used to can you run through this faulty logic tear it as though it is the last silk stocking between you and your first fuck.  Goddamned! are we?  I wonder, at this atypical point in the journey, is it time to turn around and head for home? Should I head for New Jersey, will they let me through the Holland tunnel.  Some will find me trying to make magic out of two beer bottles and a half a pack of cigarettes.  Yes I have regrets and they are deep, sharp daggers, they are struggling to twist into the heart of things, my faith has found some sanctuary and starry eyed is staring towards my soul pleading for her to make it across the gap.  This is the last step.  My Soul Jumps....