What a downtrodden time of year. Living in small town Indiana. In the winter. Ugh. Small Town, America would be a nice place to live if your 60 and boring. Staying at home, knowing 75% of people you see at any given moment, personal greetings at the grocery store, all nice things if you grew up in the 50s and longed for the life shown in the fictitious worl
The things you think and write when high. Last night for some reason I was thinking about all the friends I used to have, way back when through-out the years but have since went our separate ways. It’s ashame when the people who brought more good than bad in me go our separate ways, but has with anything in life, shit happens. You have to adapt. Deal. Darwin. Roll wi
I’ve finally decided on an official name and title for this damn thing. Pariah The Realist isn’t cutting it, You can’t use the word “The” in your name unless it’s deserving of it. Don’t get me wrong, I am a realist just the The Realist. The simple minded folks either confuse me for either an optimist or pacifist. I assure you, I am neither. By the definitions set for
While sitting around figuring how to kill the next few hours (normally I’d be sleeping, be me and sleep haven’t gotten along well this week) and Head Over Heals By Tears for Fears jamming out on my ipod I felt compelled to do some writing. I’ve tried the iDiary, and I’m not a fan of that idea. I don’t like writing stuff that only I can read, especially when I have li
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