Okay, Blogger.com is starting to anger me.
Flanked by beer bottles, a 32 oz. Old Milwaukee stands out among the city of brown glass and is attracting most of my attention. I find myself socially drunk by myself for the 4th night in a row. I have the chat windows open, but none seem to be flashing. As the night rolls further on into solitude, the night becomes more and more alcoholic. I suspect my family of planning an organized intervention concerning my foul habits. Fitting that as I type this, Merle Haggard drawls from my stereo with, "I've got no reason to quit."
I'm back from the school machine. My grades were delivered today. I am hanging on to a 3 point by the ridges on my teeth. It's enough to participate in the peer mentoring program next year. TheSpark.com's personality test pegged me as a mentor, and I plan to pad my resume with it. What do I miss most about school? The dormitory urinals. I should mention Rob, with whom I've witnessed the break of dawn high on makeshift espresso more times than I can punch into my TI-89.
Will I ever get around to what I am try to say? Around I go. What you see before you is fictionfiction.net version 4.0, as you will not see it referred to anywhere. Fictionfiction.net began as a receptacle for web-bound authors to submit their works, as well as reviews of anything at all, for display. Turns out it is free and easy to get personal space on the web. Competing against a galaxy of home-brewed literature sites, fictionfiction.net fell into terminal disuse. Hence, 'the new' fictionfiction.net was born, featuring fun. Having since denounced fun, fictionfiction 2 existed for a few days, and resembled nothing more than a blogger page. Figuring an actual blogger page was more appropriate, you see before you what you see now. The new site is basically an archive of past achievements with an updated mp3 catalog and writings by george k george (me). I won't brag about how easy it was to create this site in 4 days, like I did in the other two rehearsals. But it was easy. Believe me.
Living with the mom is cushy so far, but I long to be back in the dirty city. I can't get enough of my mom, though. Let me start from the beginning. I was viewing some pornography the other night on the family's computer. Not moved to auto-eroticism, like some easily are. Yeah, I'm talking about you, Mary Kay. Being the considerate son I am, I cleared the temporary file cache and history index. The next morning my mom wonders why she can't access her bank account records on associatedbank.com by typing simply, 'www.ass' Ass! The autocomplete list was blank. Jesus only knows what might have come up in the address bar had the history not been cleared.
Ideas for topics of fiction are arriving like butterflies. Just need to squash the moths and asphyxiate the monarchs for pinning. With the vulgar praise of my mutual muse, the words have been falling like world leaders under the current administration. I have been published most recently in MSOE's annual verse/fiction/prose booklet. Should have the link to the *.pdf file pertaining to it shortly. Surprisingly enough, a select few engineering students have what it takes. As pretentious as could be, I signed a few random hard copies laying around the Campus Center. The graveyard should be the most updated page on the site. Check it if you feel.
I have pounded every nugget onion paper thin. I suppose I'll sit back and let the sick and tired catch up with the content and glib of my alcoholic evening. Hasta manzana.
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