Oh, yeah. My blog. Vantablack Valley - a name I like, but not so much the URL. Alas, I digress from my diatribes to bring you... Nonsense, terrible English, transcripts of Mexican labororers being coaxed into reading Doctor Suess books like wetawded kids we all knew, with the bad tongues, whatever happens to them? I wonder if Speech Therapy Camp is just eugenics.

Okay, oh, yeah. I’ve had some hard times, brothers and sistahs. The kind where you go stoneface and ask yourself, “You know what, I’m not even going to type that question, because it reveals so much of who I am (which is bad in a prismatic, undying way), I am going to talk about, erm... Whimsical things, Dr. Suess, and his lifelong practice saving children from unimaginative ideas, bad teeth and that awful inability they have at pronouncing those letters, the R’s and Y’s and look, if your kid is like that, you should find a drastic way to ameliorate this barrage of the Worst Americana Adolescent Dialect Ever, this kamikaze-for-nights-a-la-die-Germanns.


Do teenage girls still have favorite actors? Sorry.

I am thinking of putting up a Ukraine sign. I wanted to be informed first, get all of the facts, and I’m a working man. That took me about a year just to even scratch the surface. I come home, I shower, I eat, and I don’t think to myself, awful current events sound like a blast right now. So I watch anime, or comedies, or I call friends to do something so I’m not a shadow of a person socially, even though I hate going to bars. A friend of mine, he doesn’t have a car. And he’s a father to a 1-year old baby. Prone to epileptic fits, of which he had four (4) last year, along with a shoulder that has been dislocated so many times that any simple movements create the sound of a scarecrow being taken down and kicked to death, or velcroe, or simply just human bones being crunched and snapped to nothing.

This friend of mine, he’s getting chubby and his habits are getting detrimental. I mean, if you ever get a glimpse of his back teeth you will have gazed into his future – not as a dentist, but a patient-for-life, always complaining about rice getting caught in This Year’s Crevice. Eventually this Crevice becomes infected and he starts calling around asking for “spare anti-biotics,” which he says feels lindy and that it is an aberrant, unimportant stigma in the Long Haul of Things. He speaks about 3D-printed teeth and whether India or Brazil are the best places to travel for dental-tourism. He wishes the nurses and assistants knew what the hell he was talking about when he brought them up casually.

At one point, this friend told me that he dearly wishes that, for as long as we are friends, that he wouldn’t chastise or alienate him for working at home and choosing his own hours. This was years ago. He must have forgotten.