This is called, watch the story of my internet wane but my desperation increase. It's the part where I go to Kim's and get crunchy peanut butter for 2.99 and whole wheat white bread for God knows how much, wearing my flip flops at peak humidity and telling my dog that he can't come with me because there are no dogs allowed in the grocery store.

It's where I get so frustrated with having to type the symbol for paragraph over and over that I consider going back to Wordpress. Closing tabs and rather than hitting enter having to go back and make sure that I properly finish the phrase.

I am in a dark place and in these moments it is important to remember that nobody cares about myself as much as I do and that I don't care about anybody else as much as I care about myself.

I am my own dog.

I can't stand the music but I have to stay positive because I know that there is something here. A peace and serenity and power to be found in life. Acceptance of death. This pit is really the pit of myself. Seperating myself from my audience as I rummage through the pile of internal inventernetory looking for dynamite. Breaking the wall. Touching you like I told you that I would. Like I said that I would be there for you forever until I was gone. Because that is what I see in the beauty of writing. Something I look for in a book. Just know if you are reading this that I am in an internal pit. You can visit me here if you really want but only as a voiceless eye. This is a church. I am trying to combust it. I'm putting things together to fuel the flame.. I can feel the pressure against my skull. Going out your door in flip flops with the schmiggie and a pile of dirty dishes at your rear end, the toilet, a bleeding ass. A bleeding eye. Blue fingernails beneath latex gloves, wrapping around my credit card, mumbling things that I can't understand.

That energy in the dog. How do you contain it? I want to quit but I can't. I have to keep going. Quitting is not an option and there is no time to waste. I don't know who to call upon. Burroughs is dead. Grady, give me a shot. For real. I wish there was something combustible in that pipe. I just want a good feeling. I can't stand the music right now. Last.fm is gone. Like losing a family member. My ello family is covered in red. I am alone and I need to learn to be okay with that. The wife is at work. Hopefully I can remember to share all of these things. What is the point of any of it? Even with money, would I see the bulls? That should be one of the goals of my patreon account: I will see the bowls for you. Live vicariously through me. I am the one who does the things you always want to do. That is my motto. That is my creed.

This is just a moment for me to think. I don't want to read anything. I told myself that I would learn, but instead I think in circles. There is no peace and with no peace there is no place for reading. It does seem as though the answer, however, may open from standing still. But there's no time for that. My babe says that I need to work hard today. She is having to go to work with a coworker that is bullying her. She doesn't have the option of up and leaving.

It's as though I know that I at least have to try giving it a better goodbye.