my body hurts like hell

the carpel tunnel crept up the right arm and shot down to the toes of my right leg, which is strange because i felt better the second half of the day.

almost like the devil was snaking through my veins, taking a little tour, having a little look-see.

at my desk at work i have a dixie cup full of ice, i have a plastic bag that once held spoons, i put the ice in the spoon bag, use rubberbands, put the bag on my wrist till i cant stand it, then the other wrist. i look like an idiot.

i know at any moment i can be called to have to go out to chase bad guys, fight with them, climb, point a gun out, squeeze the trigger, etc. simple things like hold on to a guy who is running for his life would be impossible, but my workplace is so twisted that because i have no more sick days and because i didn’t *predict* this injury two weeks ago, i cant really call in sick tomorrow, so i do my paperwork, review documents and pray that my phone doesn’t ring.

this month has been a bitch, despite the lies that you read on my site, and others.

the lesson that ive learned is as long as i keep my mouth shut and smile everything’s fine. as soon as i open my mouth and ask for the things i want, logical as they might seem, i will come across as pushy and dickish. this is the fine line men must traverse. be patient too long and you’re considered wimpy. push and you’re too aggressive.

there is a middle ground and sometimes i feel i have found it but when the feedback both verbal and physical says otherwise, rarely is it this punishing.

i love to write and to have my hands taken away from me, even for a little while, is scary as hell.

i asked this hot chick if worse comes to worse would she sit on my lap and dictate for me and she said isn’t there software for that? so, yes, i think i want my hands back, please.

the elbows are buzzing with electricity, not good electricity, like someone hit my funny bone an hour ago and the arm still thinks its funny. the fingers are numb like i should be paralyzed soon, the neck is tight like an acupuncturist missed by just that much.

all i wanted to do the other day was cuddle with someone.

the tougher you are, the luckier you get, the more you want.

im sorry– the tougher i am, the luckier i get, the more i want.

i might not be 108 years old but i feel like im about to blink and im gonna be that age. i say that because i blinked not too long ago and i was no longer 21 and i thought to myself what the hell just happened there. so maybe i am living hard now because i don’t want to sleep through the next phase like i feel like i did in that last one.

im like ten pages away from finishing dot.con which layne is selling at a discounted rate, and i want two, bro, save two for me. and he wrote it so perfectly and smooth and easy that it almost says to you, “you too can write a novel, its not that hard. it wont be as funny, but 45 chapters, a chapter a night give or take for two months, give yourself a few days off, and hand it over to your friends for real editing and poof, novel.”

i like dot con because so many of our friends make appearances and its cool to watch ken nail every single person, most happily axel, os, and charles.

im writing as fast as i can tonight, its about midnight, i just want to write, post, and go to sleep and rest my fingers and body because i never want to have this happen again. i know it’s stress related. i know how weird my body gets when it even the slightest bit of emotion slips in. but still, i have to write to you.

and don’t feel so bad for me. tonight a mysterious hot chick offered me a night of debauchery with her if i shaved my head.

this is a girl who ive been with before, shes super clean. freaky about it, but clean. perfect body, great kisser, great moves, everything you’d hope for.

once she cut me off, way back when, i truly never thought i’d have another shot. thankfully, im always wrong.

so here is another dilemma for the post-modern man. what do you do? this girl is obviously temporarily insane. usually quite intelligent, reserved, and has her wits about her, but now all you have to do is shear your thinning hair off and prepare for the party.

but what they don’t tell you in maxim and playboy and sex in the city is that women are not attracted to men who have sex with women who aren’t their girlfriends.

lets say this very webpage has a female reader who likes the pictures and occasional jokes, and would normally consider possibly maybe hooking up with the alleged author, she might be turned off with the fact that author possibly really does have the wonderful life that is documented therein.

and i say that fucking sucks.

hot babes do it on hbo and they’re heroes. not even that hot of babes, i might add.

but a fella gets some play and instantly hes a manwhore, womanhater, player, user, risk, jerk.

its not fair, ladies, not fair.

and because my imagination is my best friend, and since nothing in here is true anyhow, and since this is no one who any of you know, so dont even bother trying to guess, i ask her, “if i cut off all my hair, will you wear a catholic girl skirt?”

she says yes.

i say, garters?

she says whatever you want.

i ask, will you spend the night?

she says i will spend the night and be super nice to you.

i say, will you laugh at my bald head?

she says, i will love your bald head, i love bald heads.

i say, can i think of some other things that i might want that night?

she says, sure, make a little list and i’ll tell you whats okay.

and instantly i had enough strength to write to you and now i think im done for the night.

four shout outs:

i got some email today and in it there was a letter from this chick who is jailbait and wants me to link her to my site and im always impressed when young girls put together web sites that have decent content, great design, and pretty original style. so keep rocking, teresa.

somehow i came across this site which is the polar opposite in design, and a lot of the things that the old fogies say is wrong with the web but something about it totally appeals to me. i get a good feeling that i know parts of the true life of a real person, and i like that feeling. rock on, punk munkie.

then theres meesh, who i like a lot, who id drink with if she lived near here, and who im scared to meet because im sure she wouldnt like me in person. i loved what she wrote in the comments of yesterday’s post but i really love what she wrote in her blog about her family and growing up. meesh is another who wrote me else i would have never known her. for that im very grateful.

im also very grateful for everyone who has permalinked me. because im not really on the computer much, i haven’t been able to compile all the people who have linked me, but know that i want to link you back on the column on the left, so if you want me to return the love, email me and when im all better i’ll get it together.

salivating over: eric neel living every man’s fantasy, and getting paid for it.

ashley doesn’t think i love her

which couldn’t be further from the truth.

ashley, baby, sweetheart, of course i love you. i love you so much im typing to you despite having terrible carpel tunnel. my wrist looks like that giraffe. im only going to post one thing today and this is it. of course i love you ashley.

sometimes love means letting go. don’t ask me to explain it because im not sure i totally understand it.

but i do understand the benefit of laying on your back with someone your own age, relatively, holding hands, discovering new music and old gems. ashley you’re twenty. im 108. you need to find a guy who’s also twenty.

you two need to listen to led zep until the sun comes up, pink floyd, skynyrd, the doors, the dead’s american beauty, the clash, the police, motorhead, the ramones, the talking heads, santana, bob marley, dylan, ac/dc, van halen, boston, dio, sabbath, priest, maiden, yes, classic rock. and not the greatest hits, but the full albums completely.

you need to be going to college and read shakespeare, hopkins, faulkner, hemingway, milton, joyce, dickinson, twain, tennyson, vonnegut, tolstoy, yes, classic rock.

don’t be fooled by guys who have great sex with you. the sex will always be great.

don’t be fooled by guys who can write well. it just means that when they’re mad at you you’ll get the most hateful terrible emails. you deserve better.

don’t be fooled by guys who are terribly handsome, or charming, or cool as a cucumber in a bowl of hot sauce. those guys, especially in LA are a dime a dozen.

what you need is a nerdy guy who’d do anything for you. who would leave you presents at your door and make web sites for you in your image: beautiful and grand, lyrical and edgy. you need a geek who would wait years for you, secretly, despite his own welfare. you need someone who wont make fun of the bad music kids these days love.

instead of trolling the skate parks and beaches, you should sit outside a cyber cafe or an engineering department, browse through the aisles of fry’s electronics, become a member of the battery club at radio shack.

go geek, not greek.

your whole life you’re going to be pursued and eventually conquered and dominated by a variety of well-meaning men, take this opportunity to turn the tables and you be the one who does the corruption. and trust me when i tell you that you’ve got all the tools.

go to tower records and smile at the boys with the dyed hair and the unoriginal punk rock wear, but give your number to the guy in the back wearing the weezer tshirt who would never think that in a million years you’d say hi to him.

then get his number, tell him to ride his scooter over, kiss his neck, watch him shake, get him stoned, put in jane’s addiction, and go where the music takes you.

maybe the rest of the good people who read this page will be kind enough to leave comments here with their suggestions since i could be wrong. and since i cant type another word.

tres happy: at the tres producers