russ

Today is a happy day. I am now only four kilts shy of my goal of ten. If I can get ten kilts together, I will never wear pants again.
Very little snow this winter.
Damn, that pic is old! I've had at least four haircuts since then. An who knows how many shaves...
A friend of mine has been telling me it's a good idea for me to read my poetry at a poetry circle at the local pub. I'm really shy, and this stuff isn't written to be spoken, y'know? It doesn't have that vibe. Anyway, he convinces me it's a good idea, so I go and read. nd it's all these 40-50 y/o's, suburban, ex-hippie types. And they don't let me read, I can only guess because I'm under thirty or something, and my angst filled poetry will rid them of ther positive vibe. Whatever.
My poetry, as much as I don't want it to be, tends to be pretty happy, sappy stuff. I'm normally not that sappy. It just works out that way. But instead of just listening, they decided to block me out so some soccer mommy can read an ode to her daughters first basketball game. What?!
Fuck hippies. Fuck the suburbs. Fuck soccer mommies.

ugh.