FIRE GOOD

My days as a caveman are numbered. I worked really hard at not having a myspace. This blog, it seems, may be a step backward. However, now is a time where my own friends would prefer to text, instant message, or email me rather than return my phone calls. And I use the word "friends," in the traditional sense referring to the people I used to spend time with doing...well, let's just leave it at that. Spend time with. Conversing, eating and borrowing clothes, not paying attention to the time and certainly not do anything worth blogging about.

Nowdays the traditional meaning of the word "friend" is being filed under "coworker" since my work buddies are who I turn to now to get my "I am so hung over, you will not believe what I did last night. Let's discuss this over a gas station musubi" fix. But I digress. There are husbands to love, babies to burp, gardens/careers/happy hours to tend, not to mention time zones and anytime minutes to track. I get it. My friends haven't turned into robots. As long as they still read for fun and exercise out of fear, there's still a heart beating under that iskin. If I keep up this semi-fictional, mostly masturbatory, quasi mockery of a self-reflection, look at me! look at me!, blog/thing...then maybe I can coax them back to the real/thing.

Text me if you're reading this.