My Life on Mars.

I don't have anything in particular to blog about these days - so far, things are going swimmingly, you know, no crappy emails, wonderful weekends, great visits, work success, just about everything that horoscope from Yahoo said I would get.  That really sucks for someone who needs inspiration to write - I am not the most positive writer in the world, (note - I use the term writer very loosely - I have a habit of drinking too much coffee, screwing with my blood sugar, not sleeping, and then offsetting the affects by having a glass or four of red wine to make me tired - and I write whilst the affects slowly work their magic - so by the action of both drinking and writing at the same time, and the fact that I live in a two bedroom apartment across the street from a gambling establishment - that should give me enough street cred to at least have delusions of grandeur of finding myself somewhat closely related to what one may call a writer) - but back to the normalcy of things lately.

You know those phone calls with folks you have not talked to in years - the how's the weather phone calls - the ones where there is silence after every sentence either because you really have nothing to say to the person or you are too busy updating your facebook page to really pay attention - and you are wondering how the hell they got your number in the first place?  That's what things are like right now - just slow - now for most normal folks, I would think that closing on a house in two weeks, the amount of travel coming up, some work deliverables - might be good enough - for me, it is sort of like Life on Mars - foreign at best, and imaginary, and, based on the latest scientific information - hazardous to ones health.  So I prefer to have things running at or about mach speed.  Don't like the quiet one bit - I always expect the banjo player and the toothless pig humper to show up when things get quiet - and you know what happens next - it ain't good - I figure if I go so fast then I can at least outrun most of the crap that is tracking me down - and so far it has worked for 38 years (with the exception of a few minor bumps in the road) -

There are only so many ways to mop a kitchen floor.  I have done it three times this week.  Why, you ask?  Because, I answer.  Because.  Sure, I could go to the apartment complex workout center, do forty five minutes on the ellipitical next to the 80 year old lady with the oxygen tank who has Dr. Phil blaring so loud my ear drums bleed - sure, I could go across the street to the once prestigious dog track that now houses a poker room and simulcast racing and see how much of my paycheck I can bet on the greyhound that just pooped, sure I could even go down to the beach and do some shelling - but all of those things seem a little less entertaining when you have time to do them - I like to do them when I don't have time to do them - yes, Doctor, I could use another prescription now please sir...

So instead, today, while helping my daughter take the FCAT prep tests, I found myself dreaming about a life on Mars.  Thought even that it might be pretty cool to live in one of those geodesic domes that you see on the sides of highways that hold salt for the winter complete with those weightless exercise equipment things.  I actually thought about it.  Man, I need some kind of distraction and how.

That's it - nothing more to write, uninspired, a little bored - and as the song says...Too much of nothin makes a man feel ill at ease...yeah, I would have that eight track on Mars too.

George