Just rambling

What, nine days and counting, right? Or is it eight days? Hard to keep track, sometimes.

I sometimes wonder why I write this. Is it for notoriety? Fame? Fortune? A big car? What? Hell, if I knew I'd probably be bigger than Dooce. As it is, I guess I'm lucky enough as it is. After all, once a week or so can't be all that bad. Can it? Naaaaah.

This is hard for me. I mean that. I want to write, but trying to get the words to jump onto the page is hard for me. I wonder if you know what torture it is to have such a lack of focus that the act of typing words from brain to keyboard is sheer hell. I have lucid moments, to be sure, but they seem to work against me, rather than for me. I WANT to talk, to type, to gush, to free-associate! Hell, I WANT to WRITE!!! And my mind tends to just sit there and sort of go Pllllllbt at me.

I went to the doctor today. Got another prescription for my stomach. Soon to be scheduled for an upper and lower GI exam. I had one of those, before, so I know what to look forward to. Oh, yes, I most certainly do! The drinking of the fluid that seems to be super-lax, the pills that sort of push the super-lax through and then the enema. Talk about being clean. Of course, I may get lucky and have the same type of procedure where I get to lay on a bed and have a pretty nurse to chat with. (Though I'd rather have my wife there.) Then, the nice drugs that make everything go away while tubes and such are shoved into my mouth and asshole so that they can tell me, most likely, the same thing - "just a couple of polyps, no ulcer". I like my health, but is this really worth it? The cute part about the appointment, however, is the "shit cards" I was given. Heheheh. I get to swab my shit with a stick and mail it to them. How cool is that?

Hell with it, I'm going to bed. What about you?