The Writing Writer

I sit here drinking one tall cold glass of some really nice beer. Delicious. My girlfriend is in the other room. Enjoying the final days of her internet movie service. Cranking out the hours before the end; she is giving the movie one helluva go. Some horror movie based around general paranoia and cell phones. It's a sad state of affairs when movies stoop to the level of duplication and audio effects to make ones hair stand on end. I enjoy a good B-movie here and there, so...

I have a great mind to buy a small farm with land and raise chickens. I hated that lifestyle as a kid, but now find it irresistible. I cannot go one day without thinking about it. We are currently working this "living together" situation out, going through the normal paces. Irritability and frustration can run thick at times, but I thoroughly enjoy it overall. There is definitely something to be said about companionship when it works. I quite enjoy this girl's company. She challenges me to no end and I believe I keep her on her toes as much as possible without getting tossed to the street. Good thing too, considering its about 10 degrees outside right now. One finds out a lot about themselves when living in such close quarters with another. I find myself explaining habits and traits that I myself have never even put much thought into. One example: I go through many of what I call "stages" week to week and month to month. Powerful lusts to watch movies for two weeks or so then on to music then video games. Its a strange cycle that I have never laid out into words or even noticed for that matter.

Strange responses coming from the bedroom. "Oh my god!" "EEEWWWW!!!"

She's a very sweet girl. Quite the complimenting second half to my weirdness.

I have been wanting to get out my art supplies and buy an easel. Maybe my "farm" should have a second story room with a good view to place such a device. Along with a fully stocked bar. I used to assemble models and mess with mass quantities of hot glue in such a window. Memories.

I want to burn some trash or anything for that matter. Blow something up. Maybe buy a shotgun and shoot holes in a beer can or 30. Wow, that stands off the page as quite a mad urge. I think I am becoming more of my fathers' son everyday. Funny how the apple really never does fall too far from the tree, as it were...