I think I’ll start every post with a musical reference, even if it is a crappy 70s, feel good about Jesus one.

So yesterday’s post reflected a bit of flair for drama, including the melo kind, which is alright by me. The truth is I’m damned, fucking confused about what to do with myself and my, as they say, future, and M.’s own doubts and stress and fight picking sinks me down even lower.

Thanks to the folks who actually pointed out completely alone may not, in fact, be an entirely accurate portrayal of my life.

I guess no one ever promised me a rose garden, or a bowl of cherries, or really much of anything come to think of it. On the plus side, no one ever promised me a chamber pot either, so I have that going for me.

I wish life had all the signs and portents and various and sundry plot-twist indicators of the right path, like in movies and averagely written books.

By the way, EVERYONE is pretty fucking annoying in Wicker Park.

And, how fucking dull could Dan Brown be in Digital Fortress? I haven’t been quite so pissed off at “love” as a plot device since Neo massaged Trinity’s heart in The Matrix Reloaded. Yeah, right, cryptology and the future of the free world of free information twists on some old guy’s horny fantasy. At least Clancy gives you sex, greed, power, death, power and all sorts of other murky reasons to go around killing and spying and what not.

Here’s my last pop culture reference for today–What the fuck?

I don’t know about anyone else in the world, but I want my expert witnesses to know shit. Like shit from books and learning and stuff. Quoting an episode of “Law and Order” that hadn’t actually aired seems a tad lazy. Like watching Henry Fonda ham it up as a Joad instead of reading Steinbeck.

Fucking hell, maybe my future should be as a legal expert. I watch all of the “Law and Order” shows.