No post in a while...

but who cares?

Anyway, NASCAR sucks. But the races kick arse. Go Junior! and Go Tony!

Check my music out at http://last.fm/user/flugh/

Mortality. Irony. Final Destination?

So, we all swore she would die in a horrible car accident that involved her driving after a bottle or two of vodka. Or maybe she'd be found face down behind a crackhouse in Baltimore. But no, she didn't end up like we all thought...

After a hell-bent-for-destruction life, Bobbie managed to clean her life up for a year or so. Then a friend offered some ill-thought pills for a backache. Bobbie took one (a methedone pill), fell asleep, and never woke up. Not nearly as dramatic as the crack smoking that caused her so many adventures in her life. But it turns out there really was a decent soul beneath the skin of the crackhead alcoholic she appeared to be. It's comforting to know now. I don't feel as deceived by her as I once did.

One of her last hand-written journal entries read "what if you die and it doesn't matter?". Guess she knows the answer now. And we probably aren't nearly as far behind as we'd like to think...

Here's to you Bobbie Joe. Rest In Peace 'hon...

But yet...

I still drive on. Sick. Tired. I have circles under my eyes that my high school geometry teacher (cheers to Mr. Bob Bloom!) couldn't even draw. This world sure is lucky to have me in it.

Hmm... maybe it was all those burritos?