Touch me. Touch me like you didn't touch me last night.

The weekend was a weekend, full of weekendy things.

Creatively, it was a total bust. What little time I did have for writing or otherwise was pretty much spent with me staring at the computer or notebook and contemplating stabbies in the eyes with Uniball Precise pens.

Sunday morning was lost to a BrainFuckHeadache.
Saturday night was fun as our sixty-something neighbor came over for dinner and wine and shouting about Republicans and their cronies.

Ugh.

I need to get writing done. I need to write a spec piece for Shonen Jump. I need to work on the jimmahgee thing. I need to get back to funranium about some stuff. I need to do more pages of "Last Shot."

My creativity fucked off to Paris, Texas, on Friday and is refusing to come back until I install a fucking bidet.

If nothing else, I WILL finish a flash fiction piece today before 5pm.

At least I have lunch with nhyrvana to look forward to.

And now, a quote from "juniperesque de Jew":

"I don't know about y'all, but I don't think Jezus died for my sins - though if he died to bring me Cadbury's Creme Eggs, maybe he and I are a'ight."

So, for now, feed me. Give me something. Music, saliva, fiction, words of hate and spite, boozahol, kung-fu. Anything.

Gimme.

b