The ‘Philosophy with Fries’ Weblog

I think I’ve figured out why I haven’t written in a while – and it’s because I haven’t liked the sound of my own whine. I’ve looked at myself on the internet and thought – ‘oh man … the only person who should sound like Woody Allen is … Woody Allen.’ So that’s not good, right?

I’ve been thinking of a lot of different things though. It’s going to be rough to organize my thoughts.

Finally sitting out here with the kitties. They miss us. We are neglecting them. They are plotting our demise.

We are going to the Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings show.

I am becoming more and more boring as each word leaks out of my fingers. This is because it is late, and my quads have this computer-shaped flat space kind of etched out onto them. It’s kind of sick. I’m going to have to start doing computer squats and exercises for mouse cramp once again.

I’m sitting next to a auto repair place thinking about death. The iPhone is very slow. It corrects only 20% of my words correctly because I’m not quite used to it. They upped my dose, which I would like to talk about, but know that I really shouldn’t. I still haven’t learned anything.

Jay’s car is working. I’ve been helping him with it today. We’ve been talking. I’ve talked about dreams, medication stuff (was that a bad idea?), and “work related things” (we both work at the cigar shop).

I was sitting here staring into space while I was waiting for him, thinking – I’ve got to do something. I don’t really know how much longer I have to live. No one really knows how much longer they have.

But then again, I’m a morbid soul. I actually got scared though, this time. Usually I feel like I’m being dramatic. I buy into the label. The Denise label, the woman label. This time, I actually freaked myself out.