oi vey

another day. more sunshine. sigh.

cold bacon's life

is more boring than yours. does this make you happy?

some guy just rang the door bell

which cold bacon did not answer. it's been a long weekend. and especially a long night. it was like he was young again, except he wasn't. and so there is much headache, and confusion and probably lead too, but in places i don't know about, so maybe it doesn't really matter anyway. and there is fear, great fear over the state of things, especially the things cold bacon has to do today, or at least, this week, maybe, someday. surely by winter. anyway it's all bad. and it's not going away and it's not getting better and fuck if cold bacon is going to answer the god damn door this morning. no, really.

there are those times

when cold bacon does not receive the proper amount of emails in any given few minutes. it is during those times that cold bacon sometimes takes his sweet leave from the email place, and goes to another place where he lies down on a large white pillow. after a period of about two hours, he arises, and goes to the bathroom, as fate would and does seem to every time now, have it. then, at this point, he is ready. a small angel begins playing clarinet in the key of c minor. and his return is afoot. he enters the room. more clarinets. he walks over to the email place. he plops down. in the big beige chair. and behold, as if someone had magically sent them, emails, dozens upon dozens of emails, waiting. just waiting. each and every one of them delightful. sent and received quite naturally. and not because of threats issued. or warnings. or any manner of tricks used in the establishment of fear and anxiety. and subsequent action. we are all on the white pillow now. we shall all soon forget everything. today is all of our birthday.

oh my god that's not what i meant

you people are terrible. my god. he would never do that. speak of people in terms of this flavor or that flavor. go through phases where one flavor seemed better than another, and form opinions, and generate small semi-interesting anecdotes, which could then be told, to whomever or whatever was on the other end, at some later time when everything had, well, blown over, so-to-say, generationally. and such histories would now be simply called things like honest or refreshing and not lascivious or disturbed or creepy or crawly or two-fingered pete and his toe thing, and stuff like that. no. he would never do that. when cold bacon says he had too much of that brown sugar, he means he had too much of that brown sugar. and that is ALL he means.

cold bacon had way too much of that brown sugar

last nite. yeah i think you know what i mean.

the new arrangement

the other day cold bacon looked down at the usual place for the box that is for receiving mail. instead of the box, what he saw was a large orange pumpkin. the box for the mail was now behind the pumpkin. it is with no particular feeling either way on the matter that i report all of this to you, but as this is what happened, i thought it best to simply give you the facts and let you have your own reaction, whatever it may be. let me recap. there is a large pumpkin next to the brown, wooden door, or i should say in between the two brown wooden doors, each belonging to one set of tenants, or tenant, as is the case for cold bacon because there is only one of him and several of them. all of this is happening on the old red porch. once again, it is behind the pumpkin where one would find a small wooden box, which may or may not have anything in it; i don't really care, as it would more likely be cold bacon's mail and not mine anyway. surely i have mentioned cold bacon's neighbors are in possession of a small daughter who is at least five and probably six, not that i much care as this is the daughter of cold bacon's neighbors and not my own neighbor's daughter, about whose age i care deeply. one more time, just to be clear. large pumpkin. small wooden box. daughter. recent hurricaine. much debris.

the mail from three days ago

cold bacon did not collect the mail from three days ago. it's still sitting there in the box. but since that time two days have passed and no further things have appeared in the box. cold bacon will wait until there is more in the box.

the mail

cold bacon collected the mail this morning. the mail from yesterday. in the small wooden box, which had been happily placed on the ground by the door just a few months before. the box is really nothing special at all, not even stained or varnished or anything. just a little five-dollar box from an office supply store. it was only meant to be temporary, but as happens so often, there comes a point at which one can no longer deny that the first draft is indeed the last, especially with mailboxes. not far from all of this not-so-important still life, lives a little gecko lizard who makes regular appearances on the steps leading up to the porch, which serve as his off-stage waiting place. this is where he goes over his lines, meets with admirers and does all those things which a gecko does when he is in between acts.

dispassionancy

if people knew what cold bacon, supposedly the bringer of happiness, had gone through, the anguish and tragedy he had to overcome to manage to capture that light which has never left him, if people knew all that, they would also realize that this happiness, this light, this dispassionate wisdom which seems to be his, are sometimes well-deserved, given the severity of his trials.

cold bacon went outside

then he went right back in, after about ten seconds. it was way too fuckn' hot. give him a break. what kind of bullshit was that. my god how could it be hotter. what the fuck.

dead dead dead, finally

i regret to inform you all that cold bacon is dead. well, actually regret is probably not the right word. let us just say i am informing you that cold bacon, the person who previously wrote this blog, is dead. this means he will no longer be writing any more entries. but blogs must go on, apparently. someone must continue to post entries and that task has fallen onto me. why? because i am the one who killed him. of course, he had it coming. he should have known better than to punch people in the face. at least not in texas, where concealed handguns are the norm. and since i am normal, i had to shoot him. i won't go into any detail, but actually it wasn't any kind of sudden bang-bang-done type of thing, like you've probably already assumed. unlike most of the people i shoot, who die quickly and obligingly, this was pretty drawn out and awful. it took several shots for him to even start dying. of course it was all his fault. he kept jumping around, trying to avoid his fate, like some ancient Greek idiot. so i kept hitting him in non-vital places. i just kept shooting and shooting. blood spewing out everywhere. left arm, both shoulders, couple in the stomach. anyway, as he lay dying, he said what i did was understandable if cruel, and that he felt the least i could do would be to continue his blog. he said something like "i might be dead, but the blog, the blog must live on." then something about vladimir putin. then pushkin. or maybe he was saying pushcarts. i'm not sure. then silence. anyway, i respect the part i understood, of his mumblings, the part about blogs. or wait, was he saying dogs? the dogs must go on? anyway, just in case he was saying the blog must go on, i'll give it a go, at least until i can find someone else to take over. i will do my best to maintain the spirit of the blog. in that vein, i will be writing about him, as if he were still alive and kicking. perhaps it will be as though he is even more alive than before! but it will be in the third person. the troggs? but they haven't played a concert in forever? whatever.

i'll validate your face

with my fist.

i'm back

but am i really?

i have a small sun burn

it's ruining my existence. i don't know who to blame.

i just had the usual breakfast

for breakfast.

i need a day off

clearly.

i'm awake

o i've been awake for a long time already.

i'm going to eat so much ice cream tonite

you don't even KNOW.

i'm going outside

who can stop me?

the day you go walking without your camera

is the day you wish you had not.

i'm back from walking around

not much has changed. i won't say nothing though. not nothing.

okay now the people are starting to come around

to see it my way. let's get my body on the same page. or is that too much to ask? you tell me.



signs like this will not be appearing on my blog.

more

of the same. i don't know. this is not easy.

today i tried again to make people do what i wanted

the results were mixed. i would say something around eight out of thirteen.

today i tried to make people do things i wanted

i didn't like it. i did not like that feeling. that was today.

and right now

again. upside down. nothing has changed.

right now, at this moment

i am totally upside down.

my eyes are watering; i'm going insane

chlorox is to blame. not me, chlorox. pure. powerful. chlorox. i must go (the hell out of here).

today is small

it has been a small day today.

mildew is the problem

definitely. no seriously.

they are delivering it now

right now! well, not "right now" exactly, but around 2-3 pm. in a big box. they are bringing it in in a big box. only they and i know what it is.

this time it was a guy

and this time, it was personal. and i got three packs of weather stripping. consider me stripped.

i am headed to the hardware store

i will buy one light. and one extension cord. the girl will ring me up and say that it's exactly twenty dollars. including tax. isn't that weird? it will happen.

i am so totally doing it right now

and everybody knows it.

i'm back now

i came back.

god dammit let me go

let me go, let me leave. i've got shit to do. stop. why won't you stop? just stop.

when people stop paying attention to me

1. it's just wrong.
2. it's quite wrong.
3. they die.
4. tell me more tell me more.
5. why is this not a poll?

ok i quite lied earlier

of course i didn't buy a house. i signed a lease though? is that almost as good?

and still no dishwasher

or kitchen island.

let us just suppose for the sake of argument

that i could not open the window in question. well then also for the sake of argument, i would have to declare a certain room off limits. off limits to me at least. that is what would happen, for the sake of argument.

you'll find me there staring back at you!

me: i tried to open a window.
you: you tried and failed?
me: i tried and failed.
you: must have been painted shut.
me: on the outside too.
you: you should have tried harder.
when: you still had a chance.

oh my god i can't fucking breath in here fuck what the fuck

dammit.

today i am wearing a facemask

what are you wearing?

okay, now it's done; the power is completely and totally not an issue

he just left. and will send the bill to someone else. i always knew that someday i really would finally be grounded. completely and totally grounded. and now for something completely next, carpet cleaning. does anyone know a good service? i do.

the power is almost no longer an issue

but let us suppose just for the sake of discussion, that i were going to buy a new car. what would it be?

the electrician is coming tomorrow

slight problem with the power.

the power is on

and it's electric.

i am going to move into it

i mean. i probably should.

just bought a house

huh.

ok thank god

i got one!

ok that's it

if i don't get a hit (or at least an email) in the next 5 minutes. i quit.

i got a really nice note from carolyn

she lives in rochester. where do you live?

today i spoke with several people

none of whom i had ever met before. i hope they liked me.

my mom is singing a little ditty in the other room

what about that?

i'm thinking

people probably need more regular updates about me. i have a feeling people are beginning to wonder what is happening during the intervals between posts. i have not received any formal request in this regard. but yet i remain confident. people are doing their best to contain, their greatest curiosities and wonderment. i will try to think of a way to meet that need. it is all i can do.

sometimes i wonder if it's possible to have too much attention

it's not. continue giving me it. until further notice.

And

A Happy New Year. Especially to me.