20

"One way the poor can help themselves would be to be in control of the size of their families."

Above all else, I respect radical decision makers. They might work, or they might backfire, but they're going to be bold choices. I've been biting my tongue in cheek watching washed up lifers with hub cap halos taking a ride on the Mass Dike in the shadows of geriatric male pole dancers. You heard me. I've always skipped class.

15 paces, turn, and draw. Keep your eye on the prize, it's mutual appreciation. The removal or expulsion of accidental human action on purpose while maintaining an emotional distance is neither healthy for one or the other. But it's the one I hold close to my heart that makes all the difference in the world. The one who marks keys with nail polish and holds dearly all the inside jokes.

All Roddenberry optimistic with big giant philosophical ambition. Pop that aims a little higher. The sweet spot. A train of thought wreck. A two timing alt-cowboy with a glock and distorted visions of his father fly fishing during the
Eisenhower administration. He stares down the gay guy wearing the life-partner beater, planning on crashing the civil union that his daddy wove fake flies for. It's the unfortunate side effects of a free style sour note. Family secrets make you so washed up, you're reversed and dirty.

Control-Alt-and Eat. Cap lock and yell, givem hell! Looming large is never far behind, so quityerbellyachin, and stand tall. It's nobodies fault. It happens. An informative tease on the space and muffled banter after unexpected chemical influence can spit fire on your early morning. This won't erase June, but it won't hinder our Septembers. No need to crumble on either end, but honesty and straight forward thinking is required as far as I'm concerned. Not a choice, but a role, and certainly a responsibility that I was always fit to, but never had a chance to fit into. Sorry is not the word, fore there must be one ten times bigger. But the frog in my throat reproduced and I cry for not one, but three.

And now we move on, and smile! Knuckles were made to wipe away and let the skins folded cracks enclose either blood or salty water. The upside is full of wonder, and the future will be held hard and embraced. No time to waste!

More effective relief is on the way. Jack is remaining nimble while taking the quick down a notch, blaming the late shipment on Hispanic temperament. Perfect casting for the re-boot. Boy don't cry, well don't pay any attention to my last call behavior. I haven't absorbed it yet. It was a long night with such brazen support even in the shadows of shots while I was away on a curb. The next day required the headache of a lifetime and tears into a fan on high. But my biggest/newest fan, whom I admire and soak into, knows that that moustache was unwavering and astounding. Too hot to handlebar? Sugar, you know it. I'm right where I want to be.

20 is the Route to my Heart. 9 outta 10 inadequate homebodies agree…