Inhale to the Chief

Here's new Falcons' coach, Bobby Petrino. He'll ride the TV on draft day and for games. Show us the way.

In the photo below, I did all those except the one in the upper right. That one was done by my tia Gloria in Chile.

It's ok to be great

This was done in the spirit of winter but perhaps that has broken. Today I took out the bike and pedalled for ten miles which left me full of accomplishment and myself. So what if I had to call mommy to come get me cuz I was exhausted. The next week will see the sixties all and that will lift me out of the shoebox of hibernation. This was a good first step.

Cat snores at my side
Puppets kissing on TV
I sort through it all

The first full workout
Many hopes in the balance
For me and the Braves

Here we go again
Breaking ground on flinty soil
Let's see what happens

Good Mornin', L'il School Girl

To all the girls I've loved before.... The secret ingredient is love, you see. I'm lucky to be able to remember many loves and not all ended in tragedy. Most did, in some form or another. To all the girls I will love, I have no declaration of principles to put in a box on the front page, today's front page, so that means there will be no extra work and the good men of the Enquirer can go home to their plump little wives. I still have love, the young kind of love, in my heart and with my tendon repaired I'm ready to return to combat but I have to buy my way back into the game which is a sour fix.

Here's to remembering your best lusts and conquests. Now, fight like apes, indeed. That's the advice of the new millennium so far. Tonight I remember a girl from California come east to see me and the sex we had during a thunder storm which was a weather phenomenon she had never experienced. Just the first memory that turned up. Roll yer own.

Brrr Daurus!!

This February has turned to a mostly blue month but my system fights the disease and I am far from the depths that held me all the weak. Seven days without prayer makes one weak, they say. Great, now more of those religious ads are going to turn up. Oh well, Hail Satan. Take that. I am reminded of Anchorage and the night seems to last for a solid week. No matter how much sun comes it still feels like clouds hang everywhere, indoor and out. Satan indeed. The springtime shall be all the sweeter. The kiss of the west will find my cheek once more.

Even the Doomsday Machine was fallible so I wait and wait. One day the world will again spin me on to the secret square and I'll grab on with every appendage.

Focus is a different animal from clarity.

No men are created equal.

I need to buy that baby.

Where does God want me, anyway?

I look up and it's eleven after three.

Husbands and Wives make me dizzy.

Judy Davis is beautiful and Quested.

The best serums are untested.

My feeble interests are vested.

The Braves are hungry and rested.

Rest when my foes are bested.

Choking it back

I drew this on the flight to ATL but it did indeed predict the future. Now the debate gets juicy. Brady is a bitch and caretaker of a system. He'll never win again, big time. Hail the Quarterback. Hey, Tom, go get 12 of 17 again for 178 and see how far you get. Bring it on.