Never Enough Time

I can't seem to take time off and sit still anymore. I took a month off and found myself spending hours on Priceline trying to find a place to run off to last minute. When my 100 dollar bids for Guam and Belize were refused for the 6 or 10th time I gave up and used frequent flyer miles to head back to Rhode Island with the wife for a few days with my brother and his family.
Global warming or maybe bad timing fucked us out of the foliage - we were early by a week or two - but we did get to carve some pumpkins with the kids and go fishing at Cook's Pond. We even took a day and went over to Martha's Vineyard where I hadn't been since I was 8 or so. We rented bikes and took pictures of the gingerbread cottage that my grandmother owned before she went batty and sold it for less than what you'd for a shitty new car or moderate bail on a first felony, a permanent stain on her memory with the surviving members of the family.
My brother has two kids, Sidney and Harry Truman. The girl is 6 and the boy is two and full of bowel problems. He can't shit for some reason and I was regaled with tales of his parents having to reach fingers into his gaping pooper to yank out hard nuggets as he shrieks in agony. I was going to suggest they try blowing him at the same time but they seemed too serious about the subject. Either way, it's nice to go home. There's never enough time to do everything you want to do back home but there's always time to get shit-pants drunk watching the Patriots lose and then urinate in the middle of a crowded Sunday Wal-Mart parking lot as though it wasn't out of the ordinary. Some next-day memories bring shame and embarrassment but I don't like Wal-Mart sober and I have no feelings of remorse.
My wife played the family game like it was old hat and made a stalker out of the girl child. She helped her with homework, listened to her read, played dress-up and the lot and now the kid calls her on the phone like a spring break one night stand with a bun in the oven. That's the problem with being nice to kids. Then they wanna hang out with you all the time. When you put bugs down their back and assure them that they are soon to be put into Foster care, they don't usually cry when you leave.
Now I'm back on the road, still recovering from a Tommy Rocker's gig in Vegas where we abused our open bar tab to unprecedented levels of gluttony. I'm sure Tommy is just glad no one stuffed his microphone up their ass this time. Just the same I had a bunch of friends come out and others that didn't. I ran into a guy I'd met in Florida through a mutual friend years ago. He told me the mutual friend was mad at me because he'd found out I fucked his wife. Funny thing is, last time I'd talked to his wife, she'd called me crying because he was trying to pimp her out. Now I find out he's mad at me all these years later and I don't know if he wants me to apologize or cut him a check.
So that's the latest and if it sounds like I'm becoming boring and don't put up enough weird stories, then maybe it's because you haven't taken the time to send me a very large sum of money via PayPal. I know you already have the CD's but that money spends too quick anyway. So just go to the merchandise page, click onto PayPal and send me a very large sum of money for no particular reason other than the simple trust that I will do something very odd with it and then tell you about it here. I'll even give you credit for it. I mean, really - what were you gonna do with that money anyway? Now get to it.
The most important thing to do otherwise is to go to www.freestateproject.org and join. It's an incredible idea and I think it could work. Spread that link around like Indonesian chlamydia. Next week is Appleton and then Minneapolis so if you're within 500 miles or so, be sure to come out.