Yesterday

I posted a picture of me wearing my robe. Remember how smoking hot I was? Well, actually I was just smoking (a corn cob pipe). I don't often post pictures of myself on here and will not start. It isn't like I'm a woman or anything. When the first artists began painting on the walls of their caves, they painted WOMEN, not dudes (who are hairy and lumpy).

There's a reason for this: women are beautiful.

But I wore that robe all day. Even when I was sleeping. I wrote all night in it, slept all day in it. Got up in the afternoon and ate in it, and went back to bed in it.

I'm still wearing it. Yes, I have showered, but I put it back on. Now I'm writing in it again. All I do is write, write, write. Shit pours out of me. I WANT some writer's block.

Please. Make it stop. Make the voice in my head shut the fuck up.

I'm talking to you, whiskey.

Today's agenda is to get a little drunk and not write anymore. I want to listen to music and sit there and look at the wall. I have a new Jimbo Mathus album to listen to. I want to watch a scary movie.

I want to be left alone by my own fucking head.