The musings of a madman...

       I am not a “people” person… Don’t take that to mean I am some hermit who has ZERO friends or acquaintances camped out in his mom’s basement criticizing women he has no chance with because “her eyes are too far apart,” I am just VERY guarded with the people I will fuck with. There are a PRECIOUS few people who can invite me outside of my house and expect me to be in attendance. I am far more likely to have them over here, frankly. … I was invited to a house party… Homie: “What’s good Phlip, you straight?” Me: “I’m good, man. What’s up?” Homie: “The weather is right, we pulling out the tents and firing the grills this weekend.” Me: “Say less…” Homie: “So you in?” Me: “Without question… What I need to bring?” Homie: “Beverage, if anything.” Me: “Your wife still drink [__]” Homie: “You know us well.” Me: “On it.” Homie: “What about you? What we on this trip?” Me: “I’m doing the sobriety thing.” Homie: “Oh yeah… You gon’ be alright around it?” Me: “GOOD-good… You’ve met my fami

       When I was little, I was always stoked to spend time with my granddad… At surface-level, he would come home from work in the mornings and during the summer we would be at the house already while mom was at work. Before sleeping his day off, we would go with him to play tennis on the courts at the high school around the corner from his house. We would go to the park across the street and hit golf balls. On Sunday mornings, he would take us to this little greasy spoon diner for breakfast.      During all of these excursions, he would talk to my brother and I. We would learn whether the words coming were from a positive or a corrective place depending solely on whether he started with “son” or “boy,” respectively. One time when we were about twelve we were at the diner having breakfast almost as soon as he came home from work, as in he didn’t even bother with changing clothes, when he looked over his coffee cup and says “y’all make sure, more than anything, you take care of y

       I was always a creative kid… As an adult, I can sometimes feel alone in a loud-ass room full of people. Half the people milling about on Tiktok, a portion yammering on about things that don’t particularly interest me and the remaining ones “overhearing” that group. None of it is my scene.      On the off chance that I am eventually directly addressed, my brain has sometimes gone on a small field trip to whatever fictional land it is creating in a given moment while maintaining just enough attention and eye contact to not appear checked out of the conversation in front of me. This is why I prefer text conversations to phone conversations and why I need personal interactions to also include an activity of some sort, because I daydream.      Not only do I daydream, but I LUCIDLY daydream. I will never deny guilt of this but in the middle of a workout, while at work or in a yard, my mind takes things I see or hear and sends them off into DETAILED fictional people and situat

  (artist's reenactment...  My Outback is actually white)      There is fun to be had out in the world. Given other responsibilities, I am not exactly able to take advantage of as many of them as I might like, but we do what we can…      As it is now spring and I will have a steady infusion of disposable income as I watch over four (and hopefully counting) paying yards with my trusty lawn equipment, I had some time and a few nickels to rub together last weekend. Saturday morning, Wife Person™ shoved off to teach you people’s children in Saturday test-prep season and I hauled out to cut a couple of yards. I returned home before she did after collecting my fee plus tips. As the little was with my ex wife a woman I had a wedding with once, it was just the two of us and the dogs.      One thing we like to do when it is just us grownups is to escape up to the mountains for a day or two. Since, again, the little would be returning on Sunday afternoon and our preferred spot is o

   [Pt. I can be reached  here ] [Pt. II can be reached  here ] [Pt. III can be reached here ] Kenneth: “Bro, I know you from somewhere?” Joseph: “I’on think so, but you look real familiar, like I seen you before.” Kenneth: “Maybe we used to work together or somethin’?” Joseph: “Nah, I always worked in my pops family business.” Kenneth: “I just know I have seen you somewhere or another, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Joseph: “Yeah, this is wild, bro.” Kenneth: “Wait, here comes somebody else.” From the walkway through the trees comes a third individual and this weird “are you my daddy?” exchange continues. Joseph: “Well damn, this dude looks familiar too.” Kenneth: “Weird.” Joseph (to the newcomer): “What’s good, bruh?” Chucky: “What’s up? I saw you before, up on MLK at the–…” Joseph: “... THE SCAVENGER HUNT! That’s it!” Kenneth: “That’s it! He was leaving when you got to the–… uhh… the car and–…” Joseph: “I was leaving when you got there, got it!” Kenneth: “So we’ve now esta

       I tried to make a pr0no once… No, not acting, but producing. I mean, I’mma be frank, I don’t even think that women I HAVE had sex with before are trying to see me fuckin’ even if I HAVE lost 104 pounds since the last time I sexed anyone other than then-pre- Wife Person™ Wife Person™ and that is just me being honest with myself. Anywho, you can read about that epic-assed failure here if you missed it last year and return to me when you’re done.      The funniest thing happened after that… Wife Person™ REFUSED to speak to or hear tell of the daily humorous conversations I have with Mr. Ssippi for almost FOUR MONTHS after that ordeal, until he came to town and took us out to eat for my birthday in the summer. They actually got along quite well and she especially loved Giant Nephew™ and he loved her, so any previous strife was all on me and not on Ssip.      No worries or surprises, of course, are there when I get a call or an especially long text about that weekend in Atl

  (look ma, new AI generator!)      Early last year, I came up with the harebrained scheme to travel back to pre-Rhodesia southern Africa – around present-day Zimbabwe – and slit Cecil Rhodes’ throat before he got a chance to ruin the continent… Read about it above if you don’t recall how that went over (surprise - NOT well!)      Anyway… Y’all know if you read last January or just now that I took EXTRA special care to not put myself in position to get anyone pregnant while I was there. This will matter more shortly. It’s spring, y’all! That means I get to go outside-outside and exercise instead of spending countless hours on my exercise bike. Furthermore, I get to take the dogs with me sometimes. So there it is, last weekend while my mom was out of town, I was tasked with caring for her dog. As a boxer, this dog has a BARREL full of energy that needs to be gotten out. In so much, I geared up for a walk and went to take Luna for a stroll through the parks around my mother’s n

  As the two of you well know, my dumb ass thought I was told I had 24 hours to live one time last month. As you may or not have observed in these here pages over the past several years, I took this information and made a simple misunderstanding into an absofuckinglute PROBLEM for a bunch of people.  The vessel of the worst of those problems, naturally, being myself. It stands to reason that NOT having only a day to live is actually a pretty good thing, y’all.  I can thank my now-21-month commitment to my health and fitness.  My doctors are actually kind of wowed at my laser focus and refusal to chill out on my regimen.  Needless to say, I **should** have more than 24 hours left on this spinning rock. …  but there is some fallout from my actions and that is an absolute problem, because I have ABSOLUTELY burned some bridges here in a city that I cannot afford to leave. One thing I never do is sit around wondering where my exes are living or what they are up to.  What I do know is