dad's 60th

"though it goes without saying, i love you to death,
though i'm glad you're around to keep suckin' in breath.
and if, on the way there, i've caused a few grey hairs,
i still think you're handsome as hell.

from the drunk cigarettes all your friends let you smoke,
to the large diet fries with your non-diet coke,
you may be wider than tall, but i love you with all
my heart, does surge and swell -

happy birthday, daddy, i love you so -
60 years down and 60 to go."

i've got an itch

i've been thinking more and more about writing a novel lately and i don't really know what's stopping me. i guess when it comes down to it i'm a little bit afraid but also i just don't know what i should write? i've always been partial to fantasy but i feel like that's not something you can just pick up and run with - same for some sci-fi ideas i've been throwing around for ages. it's stuff that takes real research and planning and i feel like i'm going to run out of time and steam for that before the summer ends. and then part of me wants to write a sort of fiction/autobiography fusion where i basically just get out a lot of my own issues and bullshit in the form of basically diary entries that i could tweak enough to call make-believe, ahahaha. i don't know who the fuck would read that, though.and i don't even know, i'm busy with work a lot this summer and all i do is sleep when i'm home so chances are i won't even do anything, knowing me.

whelp.