A cog in the wheel is it? Another episode for the reality show? The book? The movie maybe?
Do you people really want to read or hear about the monkey wrenches that keep plummeting their way into the turning wheels of the saga of my boring but blessed life?
I highly doubt it. Gosh if you people only knew.
I try to be grateful for the gifts that I have been bestowed, and let gratitude be my outlet,
but shiny silver colored tools and swinging jungle animals smearing bananas all over my back are prevailing.
I try not to write about all this shit cause i want my writing experience to be time away from all the bullshit,
but well, Ive got a monkey wrench stuck to my back. Like all the time, one after another, mother fucker.
Like being backed up against the wall, pushed farther into the wall, and then squished into the corner,through the cracks in the wall, and then splattered so hard against the wall that my guts are draining out of me.
Yea, backed up against the wall is an understatement.
Ok, so I get knocked down, I dust myself off and start all over again. Its been known to happen.
So what do I do? I go to anger management class, otherwise known as Prem Baba work, alias “group”, but for me, Prem Baba drop out. Yea thats me, I couldn't do it.
I will take responsibility for my own actions.
No really, its all good and kosher to do group, but I would rather stay up all night and do drugs, dance my ass off, and suffer from sleep depravation and dust inhalation as my therapy, than have to regress back to my mothers vagina. I couldn't bear being pushed through that canal all over again.
So, instead here I am, doing what I promised myself I wouldn't do, venting my woes on a blank page, monkey wrench up my ass.