Only This, Again.

I will never be what I imagined or dreamed of….

I will never know everything.

I will never touch the moon.

I will not live forever and I still can’t accept this fact or believe it, honestly; even after my body has started to betray me by falling apart.

I have been a hypocrite, an idiot, a thief, a liar, spiteful, condescending, bigoted, biased, cruel, racist, a disappointment AND occasional colossal failure.

I have also been kind, loving, forgiving, patient, courteous, courageous, giving, a joy to be around and an occasionally successful with a task.

I’m just a regular guy, with a regular life, facing normal challenges and inopportune fiascos; doing the best I can, as I can.

I realize that I have unlimited, untapped potential that I know I will NEVER have TIME, in my life, to explore or achieve.

But, I am here, now.

A little sad today, but not too bad…

I’ve learned over the years how to keep those monsters at bay.

Just don’t feed them…

I don’t listen to my mind very much or at least I don’t take its first thoughts seriously…

It’s kinda ignorant…really.

I listen to my heart a little more in my older years but, I know it’s naive to a fault, still….after all it’s put me through.

So, I balance them out, best I can.

I’m just a simple man with regrets and future dreams in the same head & heart I started out with.

A little bruised & dented but, we’re still OK….

It’s not bad to not be perfect.

It’s the effort that counts.

My one saving grace is that I continue to effort the hell out of it.

MEDIC!! Fat Man Down!

I haven’t had a piece of fried animal flesh in almost 12 hours….ImageImage

I’m fading fast.

I can feel it.

I ran out of my medicines 5 or 6 days ago before I started my time off.

I’ve never really been a clock-work medicine taker. I use an app on my phone to remind me to take it.

I’m terrible about getting into bed then hearing the reminder go off and lie there and think “Dang, I have to reach almost 3 feet to get the medicine….piss on it, it won’t kill me”.

You know what?

I feel better than I did on the medicine.

When I first thought that I might need medicine, it was because my vision was getting blurry. It actually changed overnight. One day I could see….the next day, I couldn’t.

I couldn’t read road signs and such until they were about 100 yards away. The lights on vehicles were fuzzy and looked like little furry triangles instead of one hazy blob. Someone coming towards me at night, their lights would blind me and make me nervous about where the center line was, or the shoulder line too for that matter.

When a vehicle or flashing lights from a traffic signal would come up, I would have to put on my sunglasses to cut down on the glare. If it was a wet night and I had the glare from the road and the vehicles to deal with, I felt like I was driving thru an acid trip.

Bad way to be in an 80,000 lb vehicle….

I won’t lie.

At the time I weighed a svelte 292 lbs, and was having to pee every 30 minutes!

When I went to the clinic and told them my symptoms they ran blood tests and other stuff.

My blood pressure was high, and my glucose was over 400!

They gave me an insulin shot right then.

“Oh shit” I thought. “I’m gonna lose my job driving a truck.”

 You can’t drive a big rig if you’re on injectable insulin, or your blood sugar can’t be maintained with diet changes.

I can’t blame anyone but myself.

I ate candy and chocolate all the time.

 I ate anything sweet I could get my hands on.

I was drinking, at the least, 2 -3 44oz Pepsi’s a day, if not more!

Though now, I have cut out 90% of the sugar levels I am usually stuffing down my gullet.

Thank God and Wal-Mart for having plenty of selections of awesome sugar-free candies.

I spent $146 on that diet/meal replacement stuff from GNC that I told y’all about yesterday.

I started the regimen this morning and I am already starving to death.

The little Omega 3 chewables that are disguised as Starburst fruit flavors are the only thing that is stopping me from biting thru my own wrists and ending it all.

Image
FUCK!!!

I have to eat a banana with my Diet/Replacement shakes. It appears that I have to have something lumpy in my belly so it thinks it’s doing something.

Oh, back to the medicine….

I can see clearly now, the meds are gone.

I can see.

I still need my reading glasses, but I’ve needed those for a while.

But, lights aren’t flared and I can read signs from a ways off now.

Right now, all I see is freezing rain and stupid Mardi Gras party people out in it….

I actually bought bottled water this morning.

I spent money on water….

I hate water.

 I bought me some flavor thingees from GNC to make the water taste better or fool my body into thinking it’s getting some sugar.

My body is very needy and has a fear of bulimia I think.

I’m gonna start drinking Diet Coke for my cola cravings, but only when my will breaks down.

That should be in about an hour I think…..Image

I weigh 252 lbs as of right now. My Blood sugar is a little high, about 150, but it’s a lot lower than usual of late.

I think that I can control this stuff by ceasing to be a disgusting fat body and eating healthy or healthiER.

My choices for sustenance out here on the road are very limited.

Fried, kinda fried or almost thought about frying it.

Truck stops love to sell fried chicken, tornados, burritos, pork egg rolls, potato logs, hot dogs, nachos or yada yada yada.

I love me some onion rings or tater-tots….

Oh shit, I’m gonna die…..I’M SO FREAKING HUNGRY!!!

I HAVE NO WILL POWER!!!

AAAIIIEEEEEE!!!

Mmmmm….Ommmmmm….Ozumieeeezzzz.Image

Okay, I’m good now….

 I love eating that fried stuff.

But Kayseri Kayseri, I can’t eat it anymore.

I will indulge myself once a week up to 2000 calories, that’s it.

Maybe that will keep me from losing my freaking mind and not being found curled up in the back of a Baskin-Robbins store in the cooler, naked, eating Playdo Ice cream with a balloon tied to my wanker.

“Just let me die!” I’ll scream!

By all that is holy and SHAZAAM!!   i swear…..No more Subway!

If Big Jared lived for a whole year on Subway sandwiches it’s because he’s insane, or was born with no taste buds.

I’m so sick of Subway, that’s all you see in truck stops anymore.

The chopped salads suck….

Their meat all tastes the same….

If I get anything from SlumWay, I get the Veggie Delight.

 I load it up with every veggie that is available and stuff it on the Wheat bread.

 I put mustard or chipotle or lite mayo on it and you could never tell there was no meat.

I swear to God you couldn’t tell!

The chopped salads just taste weird…. I think it’s because when they chop it up they bruise the spinach and lettuce leaves and it changes the flavor.

Does that make any sense?

If I have to eat one more Meatball Marinara on Italian Parmesan bread with olives, pepper rings and jalapenos….

Oh my God, I’m losing it!

Be strong Trey! Be strong!Image

Only one more hour until my banana and shake will be ready.

I can’t FUCKING wait…..

Sumbitch.

Some Faves of Mine

20131025_085709
I am posting these links to some favorite stories of mine for the new guys and gals that have honored me by following my blog….

Plus, I’m lazy tonight.

I hope y’all like them.

1) Sun Flyer

2) Toby

3) As My Pen Gently Weeps

4) Don’t I Know You?

wpid-20130810_125741.jpg

Dream Flying

images (13)

He’s been having more dreams than usual….

At least he thinks so.

It happens to be that here lately he dreams most every night.

The dreams seem to last for days and after he wakes up, he’s exhausted, thrilled, disappointed and happy.

He’s never happy.

He hasn’t been happy for years in this Awake place.

He is only happy when he dreams.

In his dreams……He can fly!

All he wants to do, when he is forced into the grind of the world, is to be alone and quiet.

He doesn’t like to be alone….but that’s up to…them.

He won’t take the pills or liquor anymore to help him sleep, to help him “handle’ things.

He doesn’t dream with the dope, no dream……no flying……

No sky dancing…..

He lives deep in his mind during the Awake time……The dark corner next to a wet spot where all the noise and arguments rage behind his eyes…

He tried to stop the noise with an ice pick once but his courage failed.

It always seemed to fail when he needed to fight back or stand up for anything, or anybody.

“I can’t even stand up for myself” he thinks….

But when he was flying, he is above the pain and noise.

He flies through the rays of blinding light, like ribbons made of rainbows.

When he flies he would soar through clouds that were so cool and clean that it would make him breathless and tickle his face, pulling crystal tears of joy from the corners of his eyes as if drawing water from the well of his soul.

He would laugh and shout, cry……

He loved the wind pulling through his hair like a lovers hands.

He loved to dive toward the earth at blinding speed then, at the last second, climbing, clawing back heavenward….

Back into the clouds…..Back into the light.

Back to where laughter is louder than the rushing of flight.

The pinching of the cold wind, the heat of the sun take turns changing the color of his spirit.

But the Awake time would always bring him back down from the sky.

The Awake time would bring back the noise and arguments in the wet spot by the dark corner where he used to hide as a child when the drunken hitting started to fall through a bloody haze.

He had read somewhere that all he needed was the faith of a mustard seed and he could do anything.

Flying is much easier than moving mountains he thinks.

Oh….He has faith.    The faith of a lost child who believes in love…..but never touches faith….or is touched by love.

He is tired of being Awake.

So tired……

The noises and arguing behind his eyes are loud today.

He only wants to sleep…..

He just wants to dream…

He wants to fly……

Forever.

download (64)

The man stepped off of the roof ledge of the tallest building.

The wind ripped through his hair.

The smog of the city below tearing at his senses, drawing gray dead globs of bile from his widening eyes.

A smile breaks open upon his face….

He is flying…..!

[News:]

***An unidentified man jumped from a 100 story building in the lower part of the city first thing this morning.

Eyewitness accounts said they thought that they had heard laughter before they saw the man falling, causing them to look up at the strange sound when they spotted him.

“He looked like a mustard seed against the sky at first” said one witness.

“He was laughing like a mad man, I could hear it all the way down here where I was standing” said another.****

The coroner zipped up the bag that contained the body of the man that couldn’t fly.

“It almost looks like he’s smiling” said a grimacing cop.

“Who’d ever dream that a person could take their own life?” said the coroner. “I still ain’t got used to it”

“Well…” said the cop, pushing back the brim of his cap…..

“He’s in a forever dream now”

The church bells began to ring across the city…..

Suicidal Thoughts: A Plea

image

Since I only got 4 likes yesterday for my post A Day In The Lifeless I considered taking my life.

When I was trying to decide which exit from this Land of WordPressia I would take, I ran into some difficulty.

1) Gun shot – I don’t have a license to carry a firearm and I’m allergic to lead.

2) Hanging – Swinging gives me motion sickness and I’ve never been good with knots.

3) High Jump from building and/or bridge – I am afraid of Heights, climbing stairs makes me tired, and the water is cold right now.

4) Overdose – How can you take that many pills and still use as directed? Discipline must be maintained. Plus, most drugs that are best for killing yourself are illegal.

5) Razor in a hot bath – Are you serious? I can’t even shave without holding my breath the whole time. I’m so cautious that I’m the only person I know that puts a tourniquet around my throat when I shave.

6) Head in Stove – I always end up cleaning the stove.

7) Carbon Monoxide – I get sick when I sit in a car too long.

8) Running into traffic – How can this succeed when you can only run into the street when the little blinking man on the pedestrian crossing flashes when traffic has already stopped?
a) Have you noticed that the blinking man is white…?
Figures…

So, I can’t think of any other way to do myself.
Please prevent my suicide by “liking” all my posts and stroking my egos.
It is up to you.
My life is in your hands.
No pressure…. Really.

Posted from WordPress by my Android by Treyzguy

A Day In The Lifeless

It’s cold in Salt Lake City during the last vestiges of winter in March…Image

They woke us all up at 5 am each morning at the homeless shelter.

This morning is ‘cold breakfast’ morning.

Cold breakfast is pretty self explanatory, but in a homeless shelter it’s a whole different animal.

Homeless shelters depend on donations.

Donations depend on charity.

Charity depends on people.

People are…..not to be counted on sometimes.

This particular morning we are getting Special K cereal™, Borden’s Powdered Milk™, doughnuts of different types, bananas and coffee.

The cereal box is 2 years old.

The Borden’s ‘Dry’ Milk is water thin and warm.

The doughnuts are stale, hard and tasteless.

The bananas are over-ripe and the coffee is as thin as the milk, but cooler than the milk…

We get one serving of each…..

One.

Most of the people in here are men. There are a couple of women, but they seem to be matched with some of the guys.

Except for Trish….

She argues with herself over trivial matters.

This morning it sounds like she is not happy with one of her “selves” and is berating and cussing “them” about losing her toothpaste.

She stands up, flailing at invisible people, and runs straight into the opposite wall, knocking herself out.

She lays sprawled out on the floor with her hospital wrist band, from her release 2 days ago, still on her wrist.

The library card hanging on a piece of ribbon around her neck looks strange next to stained bandages around her throat from where she went after herself with a curling iron that had been dropped off at the shelters Donation store.

“I’m glad I’m not crazy….” I think to myself.

We are all walking different directions to begin our day as the ambulance pulls up to the shelter.

No lights….No siren.

“It’s only Trish….again” says the cop.

“Maybe she’ll do us all a favor and die this time” laughs the guy paramedic.

“They should have never let her out to walk the streets, where’s she gonna go!?” says the girl cop.

“She comes here” said Mr. Larry, the shelter director and “20 year sober drunk” he’d say with a grin and a cutting gesture across his throat.

We are turned out from the shelter at 6 am on the dot.

It is dark and cold…There is no traffic and the buses don’t begin the route by the shelter until 7 am.

We walk the 1 1/2 miles just for something to do, plus not freeze to death.

The daily evicted walk down the sidewalks, through the vacant lots full of trash and weeds, under the fence surrounding the Union Pacific rail yard and some are lucky enough to have money or a free token from the churches for a bus to SLCity.

I guess that’s a polite way to say “We want your soul to be saved, but don’t come back until after dark”

I take the bus.

I am a college student in my early 40’s.

I am a highly functioning alcoholic.

I’m going to beat it this time, but first I have to be at the plasma center before 8 am so I can get in and out early and get my “Special Starbucks” before the shaking and panic starts so I can concentrate in class.

We say “But first….” a lot.

Some men head for the railroad yard to catch a ride….somewhere.

“Anywhere but here” they’d say.

They’ve probably been saying that for years, and every where they’ve ever been.

“I don’t want to be…..” is a better way to say it.

“I can’t stay here”

We don’t know why….

We just can’t stay here…..or there.

We have to get away….from something…..Everything.

There are rules for shelter admission at 6 pm Monday-Thursday  and 5 pm on weekends.

1)      No drinking of alcohol

We are all given breathalyzers as we sign in.

No one has alcohol on their breath except a few new people that also have grass in their hair and smell like cow shit and urine.

But they don’t frisk the “regulars”Image

The one’s they know they can trust….

I usually had a ½”diameter, 12ft piece of surgical tube that I stole from the Biology lab where I worked in the college, wrapped around my waist under my shirt.

It is full of Vodka or another clear libation, if I have to have something cheap between student/employee paydays and the 3 Plasma donation visits I’m allowed every other week…

After we all pass the breath test, we poor beggars head to the chapel and wait for the preacher of the day to show up.

We have to do this every night in order to get dinner, a shower and breakfast.

It lasts for an hour.

It could be considered torture and inhumane treatment at times.

My favorite ‘preacher’ was a 14 year old boy that came along with his preacher dad to save our “treacherous, ungodly souls!” “Can I get an AMEN!!!?”

Amen…

When the boy is through skipping across the pulpit, throwing himself to the ground, jumping up and down and waving his arms so hard I think he’s gonna pop a joint out of place, I feel really glad that I’m not a Jew, a Mormon, a “damned rag head Muslim”, a Fag or a Queer.

Amen….

We all feel better now that we have all been brought to Jesus by an alternate route for the 3rd time this week as we head to the lunchroom.

There is no talking.

There is only a shuffling, clinking, sliding plastic tray sound followed by a rhythmic “glopping” noise.

ImageMost nights it is a ‘stew’ or ‘goulash’ of some type, a piece of bread and a vegetable to be named later.

The ‘stew’ is heavy on the carrots and potatoes with little eyes looking at you…

There’s also a kind of shiny petroleum broth film covering it, undoubtedly from the ‘cooks’ not knowing that they should drain the oil from the cans of Spam™ before they add the ‘meat’ to our fare.

The Kool-Aid™ or drink mix is always thin and has a slight chlorinated after-taste, but it’s cool to the throat.  

We did’t need ice….or sugar.

Beggars CAN be choosy after all.

Don’t bitch Trey….   Jeez, some people would complain about getting hung with an old rope!

But…Most of us think it is the best thing we have ever had to eat.

We’re just glad that we don’t have to dig through the Pizza Hut™ and Albertsons™ dumpsters tonight….
I was always grateful for the shelter.

You see….I know it could be worse.

Did you know that restaurants, convenience stores and fast food joints won’t or should I say, can’t donate left-over foods to shelters?

It’s because they’re afraid to get sued if some poor homeless schmuck gets sick.

Sadly they were probably right, the fact is that someone would have tried to sue them most likely.

Desperate people and all that jazz….

The showers were full of…..men?

It was full of the old and young, wrinkled and pale, bent and straight…..But all broken in one way or another.

The shower was full of tattoos and scars from the Korean War, Vietnam and Desert Storm.

No one spoke in the shower.

All you could hear was the water and men coughing under the Luke-warm spray.

I didn’t take showers at the shelter.

I took showers at the college gym.Image

I didn’t have to sleep in dumpsters anymore or build a snow cave in the city park.

I had gotten my student loan somehow.

I honestly can’t remember NOW, how I even did that then.

I kept what little clothes I had in a locker at the gym.

I could fit everything I owned in a back-pack….

I washed clothes in the Biology lab “scrubs” room.

I worked as a lab tech prepping slides and cultures for the Biology department.

I worked as a Lab tech in the Computer Science labImage

I worked as an assistant instructor with gifted students and I was a tutor in calculus and statistics.

Now I can’t remember shit…..

But that night, like so many nights after and before, I lay in the dark, on my back in a quietly buzzing homeless dorm on the top bunk and feeling my hands start to tremble as I unfurl the tubing full of Vodka from around my body.

The tube held a pint of Vodka.

As I placed my lips around the end of the tube and feel the welcome first sip hit my throat and gut, I am thinking:

“I’m gonna beat it this time. Only 3 more months and I’ll have enough saved up to get a real job and an apartment”

In less than a week, I was found drunk and unconscious in the park of my college…..In the snow.

I could have died then….

I spent 28 days in Rehab….Wearing blue footies.

I got a DUI the day I got out of Rehab.

I spent a week in jail then got arrested that SAME night for public intoxication and disturbing the peace after I called the cops on myself and begged them to shoot me.

I begged for death in an alley behind a bar….Image

My forearms and knees were in piss, vomit, syringes, used condoms and stale beer.

My hands were tugging at their pants legs….”Please….please…..stop me….”

And Jesus wept….So did I.

I lost my college loans and my student jobs.

My kids were not happy. Dad was still fucking up.

When I was released from my court ordered 72 hour detox session at the mental health ward, I remember asking a fellow shelter buddy on the bus back “home”:

“Is tomorrow hot breakfast day?”

I’m amazed I’m still alive.

I’m thankful that those 2 cops didn’t help me out, back in that alley.

Sometimes I curse them…..

But I know one thing for sure….

IT COULD HAVE BEEN A LOT WORSE.

I could have died…..and not known it.

You see…?

Heaven has a special place for alcoholics….

It’s called “Hell on earth”

The good part is that we can leave anytime we want to….

We want to be anywhere but here…..

But it’s just so far away.

You Have GOT To Be Shitting Me!

image

In the immortal lyrics of the greatest song ever recorded by Brittany Spears…

“Oops, I did it again…”

Now it’s in your head!

Muwahahaha!

Don’t you hate that?

Anywho….

I am sitting here at a Tyson foods plant in Hope, Arkansas waiting to be loaded with 20+ tons of genetically enhanced super chickens to export to the starving children in Russia and Saudi Arabia.

I decided that since I have some time to kill, I would try and think of a subject to write about and post it for your viewing pleasure.

I had no idea what I was going to write about.

As I went over the options in my clinically documented distorted sense of reality, I took my reading/typing glasses and sprayed them with lens cleaner.

Then, after a couple of squirts on my glasses I proceeded to point said spray bottle into my evidently stinky mouth and give the old tonsils and tongue a quick soaking!

The sacrifices I make for y’all……

“You DUMB-ASS, Why did we just do that?!” my mind screamed at me.

“AAcccckkkk!” my mouth screamed for real.

image

So….I started to spit……   All over my laptop keyboard and screen.

There is nothing nastier than lens cleaner in your pie hole.

Especially if you ARE a dumb-ass…..

Things are always intensified and nastier when you are a dumb-ass.
It doesn’t matter what brain fart occurs; When you’re a dumb-ass you deserve everything that happens to you.

Of course I start cussing myself and calling myself a DA, using language that would make Eskimos fuck, but it won’t change anything.

I’ll do something again….soon.

I now believe that I have DA abnormalities in my DNA.

I have sprayed my mouth TWICE in less than 2 weeks.

Check one of my earlier blogs over the last couple of weeks, I freaking wrote about it!

If I’m lying, I’m dyin’ “

Anywho….

God, that stuff is nasty.

I’m munching on Townhouse crackers trying to kill the taste.

Did you know that when you cross Townhouse crackers with Lens cleaner it reaches a whole other level of “Kaaack!”

I now have linoleum in my face.

Oh, and while I’m raising hell, I might as well broach another complaint. (Y’all know how I tend to ramble sometimes)

Hey…You in the den….Shut it!

Anywho….

Why do we men have so much hair on our backs?

When God made us, I assume it was him, how come he designed our arms too short and bent in a weird way so we can’t shave it?

I mean the top part of the back, across the shoulder blades.

Even when I tried to reach back there and shave, my back looked like a landing strip for drug planes in a jungle.

We can reach our butts….

Does that mean we should shave our tooshies?

It’s kinda weird the first time, but when you splash that Hai-Karate across your ass….then give it a couple of good slaps to promote follicle stimulation for future shavings and finish off with a low heat session from the blow drier…..

I think I saw God that day…

I’m not waxing shit!    I’m not gay…..

Well, I do love a great Vietnamese Pedicure…..Maybe, I’m just a little gay.

Anywho….

Oh….Don’t shave your….guys….you know what I’m saying.

Don’t shave….down there.

First off…….You HAVE to use a RAZOR.

Smearing the shaving cream all over your….thingee’s…..is a grand time no doubt. (I’m always tired after the smearing part for some reason and never get to the shaving end of it…Hmmmm)

Don’t put razors down there…..

It’s bad….

You know how you get that feeling in your knees and stomach when you’re standing on the edge of a precipice, or ‘high place’ for you fellow dumb-asses?

“Go ahead….Jump” You’re brain says.

What if you listen to your brain and jump?

What if the same thing happens while your shaving….your….you know?

“Have at it big boy! Off with their heads!” Your fucked up brain screams.

You start hacking and chopping, laughing and screaming like a maniac….Shaving cream and blood spraying and splashing all over the bathroom!

“What are you doing!?” Your wife screams from behind you.

You turn around and say….”Nuttin’ honey…”

But you saw it in your mind didn’t you?

You were gonna cut off your hoo ha’s weren’t you, you sick bastard!?

Don’t do it.

I swear to God you’ll regret it.

Doesn’t really matter though, after 10 years of marriage your wife will put them in a jar and sit them on the fireplace mantle where you can look at them any time you want to.

Mine keeps the goldfish in there too.

Looks like a couple of honky sea urchins.

Anywho…

Okay…It seems that a zesty dill pickle and a Cajun pickled egg kills the taste of lens cleaner….

Good to know…..Write it down dumb-asses.

You know who you are.

This is how you can tell:

You know before you do something particularly risky, some THING that you have done before, that there is an element of relapse capability.

And you do it anyway….

Like bopping yourself in the mouth when pulling off a sock or shoe. (Mines always a muddy boot for some reason)

Here’s my favorite:

Opening the freezer door and the big door on the fridge, bending down to get something in the lower part, stand back up and “CracK!!!”

Enter Dumb-ass Valhalla.

Wish I had a dollar for every sunza bitchin’ time…..

Oh…..here’s another:

Reaching for a boiling pot handle or sizzling frying pan, knowing you should grab a pot-holder, but saying “Fuck it, I’m only going to hold it for a second, I’m just moving it to the back burner…..”

I’m not even gonna say anything else…….

Are you Shitting me!?!

image

I just tipped over my pickle jar reaching for my soda mug…..

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME!!!!!

I can’t believe this is happening as I write this post about DUMB-ASS occurrences!!

I knew the dang lid was off, I knew I’d get another pickle out but……

I’m a plague….I’m a freaking carrier of dumb-ass.

I’m a menace!

I’m gonna kill myself…..

Posted from WordPress by my Android by Treyzguy

Writers Block Prevention

The rest of this month I am going to write Stories based on artwork from Norman Rockwell and Boris Vallejo.

I will select my favorites from these two legendary men and use the pictures as both inspiration and theme.

Here is my first selections…

image
Norman Rockwells “The girl with a black eye”

image
Boris Vallejos ” Vampires Kiss”
(I already have ideas for this one!)

I know there is a fancy smancy writing definition or style name for this, but I ain’t learned like the rest of y’all.

I’m just a big dumb stinky truck driver.

Basically… The real reason?

I need a new challenge.

I need some dope man…!!

My own creative writing class, so to say.

I’m sure y’all know exactly what I mean.

Plus, I am trying to do some editing and blending to a bunch of my stories into a book I guess.

Just for the hell of it…

I really don’t care about making money for writing and I’m perfectly happy as I am now, learning the craft from y’all.

Why would you want to make a living doing something you love?

I’m a freaking American, I demand a shitty and unfullfilling job!

It’d turn into a job eventually.

Do I want to be published?

Naaahhh… I think I’d like to, but even if I had the only paper or hard back copy ever, that would be enough.

The Land of WordPressia has helped me grow as a novice writer and shown me satisfaction in my life that I considered was beyond my reach…. And taught this old dawg a new thing ‘er two.

I learn….
I read…
I express…
I write….

I watch in amazement the talent levels and creations that bloom forth from the minds of “regular” people on WordPress and it really gives me hope in our futures.

“Whatever man’s mind is capable of dreaming, his hands can create”
– Treyzguy

Posted from WordPress by my Android by Treyzguy

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: