It's the middle of February.
I haven't posted since 2008.
I seem to have hit the wall.
I've been thinking for some time - hard as that may be to believe - that I need to revamp this blog somehow and make it about something. I've dedicated one or two posts (wink wink) to the lovely and talented Tim Armstrong. A few to the Mostest from Nacogdoches himself, Clint Dempsey. A whole bunch to various soccer matches around the globe. A lot to my family and pets. I've just lost the plot, folks. Don't know what to write about anymore. Now is the winter of our discontent. January sucked and February ain't done nothing to fix up on it. (I believe that is a bad grammar grand slam. Go, me. At least I can still do that). Everything is wrong. And I'm not quite sure how to fix it. The acrid stench of failure engulfs everything I touch lately, so for the next little while I just want to sit in the closet with a bag of Cheetos and a Jacqueline Susann novel and lick my wounds.
Well, actually it will probably be a Rancid album and something cold to drink.
Anyway, feel free to holla if you have any suggests.
Feel free to holla about anything at all.