Or have blogs.

"I've got a headache THIS big..

...and it's got alcohol written all over it.."

Not yet. But since I plan on getting drunk this evening I predict this sentiment shall apply to me soon enough. Soooo...
Why this need for inebriation?
Fuck if I know. Something has invaded, started throwing stuff around in the attic of my head. A chimp in the chest...
Mind begins a slow hum
Heart clicks like a gun
eyelids flutter and the feet want to run
to the end of what-the-fuck-ever
just have to slip the grip of this Now-or-Never..

Here's a little something I found scribbled on a napkin which my drunk, sulking self had stuck into an old journal long ago:

Maharaja Lounge, West Seattle

Someone's slapping of asses,
makes a sound like molasses congealed around an old chicken bone.
Getting drunk alone
in a sweaty sock disguised as a bar...
Pick up my brain and hear a dial tone.
The little people in the jukebox
want to rock and roll all night.
Someone puts public access porno on the television,
But it's allright because
My eyes make revisions.
The leers of men.. too many pigs in one pen
Makes me hungry for Fight.
Instead I sigh
and light another one.
These empty nights..
Something always fills them.

You were born..

...and now you're free...
..so happy birthday.

In a cafe in Olympia, WA... I drink a latte and use a laptop and wear a scarf and POOF!
I realize I have become another plugged in drone of the Pacific Northwest. Swaddled in coffee, electronic media and isolation. The rain swirls around outside and I watch the gray cover everything through the windows.
GrayparkinglotGraycarsGraypeopleGrayneonsignsGraygrassetc.
Inside the cafe, everything is not covered by Gray, it is covered by Ikea.
Oh, I am so homesick I would trade all these co-ops and Obama bumper stickers and ec0-awareness and low crime rates for just a few good laughs over shitty drip coffee at a Waffle House somewhere on I-75 between Orlando and Atlanta.
I can't help feeling.... lately...
that back home, issues were ISSUES! Things to be fought for, fought about, openly wept/sweated/yelled about.
Here, sometimes it all just feels like self-masturbatory, ego-assuaged, regurgitation of assimilated information absorbed from accepted liberal Experts.
"I've read this, I've read that, I know the acceptable things to say and so I never have to search very deep or show my ass about anything because I know all the approved arguments with which to cover it."
Ok. Obviously, I am making generalizations and showing the pissy side of Saren. I am just frustrated by all the wealth of information and evocative text being dangled before my face without an adequate environment in which to process or discuss it. The conversations ABOUT the rest of the iceberg beneath the tip never seem to LEAVE THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG.