Pre-Solstice

He's happy.

Taken at approximately 4:10 PM in Eagle River, AK.

Turds.

Curbside service

It is difficult to be alive.

Sector King Zulu King

See what I mean? I'm a goddamn screaming endorsement for all things effete, liberal, and white: flat front khakis, button down shirts, and non-Budweiser beer.

Gavin took this of us making burrito fixings.

Two more pictures via Gavin.

It's pretty cool that Gavin knows how to take pictures with the camera we have. Tonight as we were making dinner, we kept him occupied by sending him around the apartment to take pictures of whatever he desired. Not only did it keep him out of our hair but it was pretty cool to see how he, literally, views the world.

Also it gives me perspective into parenting, like maybe I should cut him some slack sometimes. I like to imagine that if I was in a world where giants twice my size spoke a language I only halfway understood expected me to perform insanely long tasks that were crazily complex and beyond my manipulation with little or no supervision, then getting pissed that I didn't execute the tasks to specification, and those giants were drunk half the time. Talk about a bad fucking trip.

I need to be easier on my kids but if I go too easy those fuckers will walk all over you. I watched a snail sliding, slithering along the edge of a straight razor. That's my dream. That's my nightmare.

Yo, What's Up?

Just doing some light reading.

The only thing that is missing here is a giant loaf of crusty bread.

Check out the flower that one of my plants put out. Creepy, right?

So the damn children have been sick. Of course, the children's state health insurance is being re-approved right now and we don't have any coverage, so the children see the need to have all these doctor appointments and medications and all this shit. I tell you, they better produce one hell of a return on the investment we're putting into them. I don't know what the fuck we would do if we had to pay for this shit all the time.

Hey, you know what else? I hate a lot of people. Today I found an old diary (Yeah, I called it a diary. Only homos have journals.) that I had kept from back when before I hooked up with Felicia, went through my divorce, and progressed through the time the old man died and up to past Gavin's birth. In short, I was a fucking wreck. I think that, judging from the shit I saw, I could probably have been diagnosed with depression. Not in a pussy, "Oh, I don't feel good about life" way but in a "Holy Shit. Maybe I need to make the world better and kill myself" type of situation.

Look, I've always been prone to the melancholy, but looking at that shit made me thankful for the tenacity that is built into the whole business of living. Shit. If I'd been a total douche, I would have offed myself and never found teh blogonets. And then where would all you motherfuckers be?

All I'm saying is that maybe you should go back and read some shit that you had put down in a previous time. It's kind of fun to see a keyhole view into how you thought the world was and that you thought you knew who you were. The truth is that you don't know shit, and you just delude yourself into thinking you know what is up and what is going on. The truth is that you are terrible, just like me. We are all terrible. That is our station as a species: To be terrible.

Now, get out there and be terrible. You motherfuckers!

Why, Lord?

Why in the fuck were there no pictures posted with the last post? Why, goddammit, why?

Yeah he's dead but man, was this motherfucker an asshole or what?

Just so you know, fags, God hates you. At least that's according to the assholes who made this sign.

Look it's what chicken nuggets are made of! Yum, like a motherfucker!

Take an ounce of this and don't call me in the morning. I'm serious, don't fucking call me, asshole.