6.17.2005

i'm not a writer...

I'm not a poet.

I'm a scribbler, a rambler - from time to time, I get diarrea of the brain and you guys get to see all of the $#!+ that leaks out.

It's after midnight. I should be asleep, but as it stands, I am sitting in my armchair with my feet propped up on my ottoman. I am naked, but wrapped in the red mink blanket. I love how the blanket feels against the skin of my @$$. It's an erotic feeling feeding into the grown woman sexy urges that I am feeling as I sit here with my trusty laptop allowing thoughts to discharge.

You know, I started blogging a year ago because at the time, I was feeling my talent - because I thought I had so much clever $#!+ to say. Truth is that I'm not that d@mn talented and I am really less than clever. I don't have a lot of profound wisdom to share with you. There are few lessons to be learned from the conversations that go on between the little people that exist in the prison of the grey matter between my ears. This is not an examination or an exploration of the inner part of who I am. I don't feel a need to bare my soul or vent or anything.

I just like to type. I like reading what I write and if there's anybody out there, that reads this madness and can find something that catches their attention long enough to find entertainment or inspiration or hell, even a way to waste a few minute of their lives, they are welcome to visit my little corner of the web. Come in sit a spell. Take a look around. Enjoy the sites.

Y'all come back now, ya' hear?

2 comments:

sj-the-infamous said...

Just passing through --

I love your blog! I'm perusing some of your entries, and I appreciate the way you think and express. I share some of your thoughts, truly. I shall return.

Peace and Blessings ~ sj

DasKrait said...

"Y'all come back now, ya' hear?"

Now that was the first new term our family learned when we moved from MA to KY, usually said by the grocery-store checkout clerk, as she blew smoke out onto my Mom's face, (back then they could smoke at the registers).

And MAN, would it piss my anti-smoking Mom off. Unfortunately, it was the closest and maybe only
store around for groceries.