Forgive me for starting something new, and completely ignore it if it's awful. I really haven't a clue...I'm drunk!

I guess I can really only go pee when she sings. Loud vibrant singing. I have her whole damned album on my ipod. In case I am caught out in public. At a wendy’s or starbucks I can blare her “Gentile is the Urchan”, and let out a might fountain at near maximum expedition.

Gary accuses me of mental conditioning. Not just with the bladder thing. Apparently he has been keeping track of seven or eight different things that are supposedly ‘neurotic’ pathological behavior. So what if I like to gargle Kern’s fruit punch in the morning while absorbing Paula Zahn and her news updates. It suits me. I feel more compelled to conquer. Although – and quite admittedly – I am not quite sure what the hell it is just yet.

But don’t you worry my estranged audience member. Your dues will come. Not in the typical form. Rather, you will be perfectly surprised by what happens next. In fact, I can’t imagine that you are anywhere close to figuring out what Gary is going to do after I tell him that they have discontinued his favorite reality show: “the simple life” with Paris Hilton.

And then there’s the tea. I don’t really care what anyone else thinks about this one. It is just proper! If a man wants to have his tea after precisely four minutes and seventeen seconds past the moment he introduced the barely scalding water to the dried leaves, then so be it. According to many Tibetan monks this is within three seconds of the optimal mediation time for attaining moksha. Don’t know where I heard that but I remember thinking that I could trust the girl who told me. And enlightenment does sound nice.

I haven’t been working on that a lot lately though. She (the lady of the 5th thru 11th dimensions according to modern superstring theory) seems to have encumbered me with psychological premonitions. The inornate and nondescript unease that usually chases after you in the mornings after a sequence of unpleasant dreams. I spend most of the day reconfiguring my brain to believe that everything that just happened actually didn’t, and I really shouldn’t be that angry at any of the unfortunate actors. I guess it’s just most disturbing that the most common emotion is anger. Why aren’t these non-sequitur premonitions filled with delight. Just once I would love to have savage romps with the faintly clad austere group of ladies living under paradise’s roof in Malibu.

But at last I must recognize my own torturous demons as they arise. It is not their cross, really nor mine, that must be born. We are just hallowed embryos of an archaic society churning out new recipients for the daily award show. Yes, we spawned this cosmic aberration. Ironically, in attempt to cleanse ourselves of what little we knew about the shitmounds growing around us, we have entrenched ourselves in further disrepair (at least so from the great cosmic eyes previously referred to).

Good Christ I wish I could have as easy recipe for taking a dump as I had when I could here her song for pissing. But no such alchemist has presented themselves….and I struggle. Day after day I spent hours soaking in the birch blond walls, a veritable contingency of overconfident men describing their latest conquests, and by most accounts, the remaining embers of a thriving business practice.