It's Not Even Midnight
Memorial Day Weekend, are you set up? What are you doing? E-mail me, don't just say it outloud, weirdo. Nah, say it, weird out the people around you need a little reality check.
So what are you going to do? Hike? Drink? Sleep in? Shop? Head to Emerald Downs... oooh! The ponies! Yes, the ponies are back! If this rain would stop we'd see some real running, but dammit, global warming or El Nino or Terry Taylor seem to be causing some kind of climate trauma. It's raining, two days straight now. But here's another thing on my mind.
My friend seems to be seriously depressed, it's in his act, in his blog, it's live. I know he's not going to suicide, yes, it's a verb, but there's a point when you care enough about someone that you should let them know that they matter. I'm going to call my friends and family this weekend and talk for a bit, let them know I think of them, and tell them straight up that a part of them is inside me. Call it love. Call it too much Merlot (I suggest L'Ecole 2000, it's worth the $35). Call it sentimentalism. But call. It's 30 minutes out of your weekend. Then, back to gathering beads.
Y'all take care.
Geoffers
Take Me Home
Geoff Lott: Comedian, Writer, Philosoteur. I am here to amuse you, not entertain you. If not now, later. If not you, somebody else. If you can't laugh at yourself, that's just fine, too. I will do it for you.
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