wayside

the bastard was up late last night.

later that he really wanted to.

you see, the job,

no,

the beast we have all come to know and love as facebook had me up way past my bedtime.

surprise, surprise.

anyway, the bastard was talking to the ghosts of christmas past and what could have been a long long time ago and she told me she wasn't happy with how it all turned out.

the house.

the hubby.

the kids.

why does it seem that something is missing?

I asked her, "do you have any regrets?"

didn't travel more.

didn't have a rewarding career. but then I couldn't have the family i have if I had that

"it's a catch 22."

she knew it was. but that's just it. life is a catch 22.

damned if you do,

damned if you don't.

as I fell away to sleep at 2am, after the clanging of my 500 year old radiator subsided, the bastard thought that he may have understood how it all fell apart for him the last time.

clang. clang clang. hssssssssssssssssss

-the bastard

...on tracksuits

the bastard doesn't remember how he found achewood, but he did.

it has been highly entertaining for me and i go back every day.

whether it's funny or not.

but regardless, i go back because it's always strange. there you have it.

this week, left hand rob discovered the bastard's new favorite band (which actually is my second favorite new band because p-cat lent me that brian jonestown massacre cd before lunch) on myspace so when i went to look at today's achewood strip it directed me to 8 pages of it on myspace. you go read it now because...it pleases me.

—the bastard