I’ve Seen Blue Skies Through the Tears in my Eyes. And I Realize,….

I’m going home.

I didn’t dream at all that night.

There,… I followed my stupid literary device designed to grab you attention and make you feel some emotional attachment to my ass-kissing, tug-at-your-need-for-consistency, bullshit opening statement. I did it. We’re moving the fuck on. It’s been four months since I wrote my last episode, and in that installment we were still examining and covering last summer. I’m older now. I’m wiser. I’m a little less crazy. Oh,… I’m still bat-shit crazy,…. Just a little less so.

Like I said,… moving on.

Okay,… you wanna wrap up the psychotic episode in a neat little box? I can’t do it. If I could even try, I would. I take the medication religiously now. I have to convince myself that I have the power to control my anxiety. It takes a great deal of concentration, but I can normally talk myself through it. The problem there is when I’m driving. I have two things to concentrate on at the same time,… I have to drive,… I have to keep myself calm,….

This being the Tampa Bay area,… these two concentration requirements are completely diametrically opposed. I find myself literally white-knuckled on my steering wheel and speaking in some sort of evil tongue,… and I try to remind myself to be calm,…. And I forget about driving…. I have almost driven into the backs of slower-driving fucks just because I had to close my eyes ever-so-briefly to pray to the gods of road rage that I would not INTENTIONALLY drive into the backs of these slower-driving fucks. Driving rules. Driving in close proximity to really shitty drivers sucks assballs. You know this; I’m not telling you anything new.

But I know I have to catch you guys up on shit. At least those of you who might be reading this thing after four months of no updates at all. I just can’t write about last year’s issues anymore. Maybe with a little more perspective, as time allows, maybe I can get back into it…. I’m in a different place right now…. I don’t know that I even want to look at that “me” anymore. … So, maybe I’m not gonna catch you up,… maybe I’m just gonna try to interest you in what I have to say from here on out…. You know me,… I’m still the same guy.

You’ve read my stuff up until now,…. I was an asshole.

I’m still the same guy – an asshole,…. Just a slightly-less-crazy one.

So,… we’re gonna talk about new shit. New friendships,… New opportunities,… New difficulties (what, you weren’t expecting them?).

I’ve got ideas about where I wanna go,… but, if you wanna make a suggestion, I can try and do some requests,… (shit, I feel like a lousy 80s cover band.)

There’s more stories about baseball,…. There’s more stories about growing up as a kid and then growing up again as an adult (maybe more than once),…. There’s stories coming up about my grandfather,….

There’s just no more bipolar stories,…. For now,…. Be cool with that,…. I’m asking you.

I’m back, bitches. Thank me by leaving comments and spreading the word. We’ll be updating more often from now on,…. Go out and sell me, fucks!

Token literary device:

I have so much to read, I can’t believe I’m taking this time to write.