Man, it gets old coming home from a hard night of work with rough, dry hands, cuts all over my arms and an ache deep in the tissues of my shoulders and back and knowing that I must wake up early and go to school and then do the whole work thing again. I'd really love a beer or six right now but I can't break the promise I made myself of doing life correctly for a change. It sure would be nice to cut loose... Anyway, just thought I'd bitch for a little bit; if not here then where else. I'm sure everyone else has their shit to deal with; sorry to whine. Pehaps I'll have some adventures to tell y'all after tomorrow.

I hung out with this really cool girl on Saturday. We've known each other for a while but we both just broke up with folks and I think we're just wanting to hang out with someone new and with someone who has their shit together (or at least that's what I'm here for). We to the Majestic to see the Bram Wymien Trio (an awesome jazz ensamble). Afterwards we had drinks at Chez Charlie's and then Harry's. All in all, a rather swanky night. I did happen to see some friends of my ex at one place and that made for akward tensions and dirty looks (don't you see, I'm the crazy one for not talking to her anymore after she tells me to fuck off and she pounds on my door for an hour shouting "I know you're in there" and she waits on my door stoop for me to get off work at 2:30 in the morn. Geez). Anyway, I guess I'll keep y'all updated if anything developes. I'm thinkin' 'bout havin' a yard party, would anyone come?

My God man!! Why can not someone make a lotion or moisturizer badass enough to combat methacrylate resin adhesive and MDF fallout? I never knew that by signing on as a solid surface fabricator at this shop I entered into a silent agreement to have the most fucked up hands. Granted, they don't crack and bleed like they used to, but I got some seriously rawhide hands. I've met carpenters that have been in the buisness for thirty years and they have some rough hands, but they cringe when they see mine. It's three years down the road at this shop, and I figured I'd have found something better by now. The best I could find was this all natural hippy shit made outta "witch hazel" and "soybean root" or something. I've tried everything that doesn't smell like a French whore (you get some sideways looks using that cornhuskers lotion. Rednecks tend to get a little wary when your slathering something on your hands that looks like a big bottle of man-juice). Isn't there some wicked stuff out there ladies? Something that doesn't have perfume and is industrial in potency? I'm tired of my girlfriend shying away from my touch, dig?

So I've started eating healthy again, after my brief foray into fried chicken and fried ice cream and chicken fried steak (do you see a pattern?). It's really not so bad. I forgot how tasty fresh vegetables are. I didn't balloon back up to my old weight (260) but I was starting to look a little gelatinous around the jowels, if you dig. Folks are always saying to me:"Josh, you look great! How did you lose all that weight?" I tells 'em: "like yer 'posed to!" To which I either recieve blank stares or "oh. Cut them carbs, eh?" NO! This brings me to my rant for today. Folks, do not cut bread out of your diet! If anything, we Americans need more grains (but whole grains and not that refined, enriched, white bread shit). There is only one real good way to lose weight, and that means replacing an apple for them fries or broccolli instead of them onion rings. And guess what? Y'all're gonna hafta bend over and pick some shit up or go for a walk, too. There is no miracle diet. Just fucking man up and do what you should....or just form a meth habit like myself.
-J

howdy. i'm somewhat new to this, so y'all be patient with me, dig? okay. i hail from Kansas city, yeah? last saturday was the fiftieth anniversary of the death of the great Charlie Parker. i can dig if no other cities did not recognize this, but K.C.? the home of Mr. Parker? i guess mayor emmanuel cleaver (who was responsible for erecting a copper bust of C.P. kansas city's 18th and vine jazz district) only gives a fuck about this city's greatest musician when he's trying to get re-elected. A buddy and I made the pilgrimage to his grave (a non-descript granite slab in a hard to find pauper's cemetary). At least someone drove from California to liven up his stone with flowers, but no one else could be found. even the folks at the jazz museum (in the afore-mentioned district) had no idea what we were talking about. no wonder C.P. re-located to st. louis. can you imagine what morrison's grave is going to be like on his fiftieth death anniversary? of hendrix? yes, i am comparing C.P. to those two. C.P. did more durgs in one day than those two put together. C.P. changed the face of his entire genre. anyway, this is my wake to him. not much, but more than the leaders of this city did. -j