Summer Time Is Made of Bonfires and Starlight

Right.

Back to business.

I'm sorry Internet. I've been lacking in the blogging department.

But all is well. Summer is flying, faster then most magic carpets, and only a little slower then most fighter jets. I've been well, doing the five big things of my summer.

1: Writing

2: Reading

3: Acting

4: Working

5: Working (Out)

Most days involve hitting the gym, reading, getting some plotting on THC done, and hanging with friends when I'm not at Brookstone.

I'm also acting in a Shakespeare show at RCC this summer, this weekend actually. More on that at a later blog.

But yes, all is well. Tuesday begins camp season. I shall be taking care of fifth graders this summer, but that's cool. It should be a good time, and I'm paired with my friend Kasey to boot. So, that's good.

Anywho, I'm going to go sleep, and enjoy my last day of freedom.

Gnight internet, see ya soon.

Albany Countdown: 41 Days

Birth Of A Blog! (oh man . . . placental fluid EVERYWHERE!)

Despite the gross addendum to the title, I hope you find it at least a tad humorous. If not, well, nothing I can do about it. 

Huh . . . funny . . . blogs are supposed to be a center for creativity and new ideas, a place where the every day life is observed and recorded, and maybe something useful can come out of it. A place where the jaded cynic has his internet soapbox to stand on and proclaim what he cares about and screw you if you don't want to listen, I'll just shout louder! BLOGS ARE SUPPOSED TO CHANGE THE WORLD!

If so, then how come I can't do anything if you don't laugh at my joke title? Irony you cruel b*tch!

Anywho, angry, forced ranting aside, this is my blog. 

Welcome. Please take a seat on the rug. We may have a couple of fold out chairs in the basement, but please -- you know what? No, sit on the rug. Some people don't have butts, enjoy what you have; now sit. 

I'm glad you've found a nice spot on my art-deco rug that may have a story or two behind it, but now it has stories on top of it. That's right, you are all stories. In your blood runs tales and songs and whispers of things that may mean love or hate or joy, but everyone hears something different. I'm a story too; I'm a story that tells stories. And this blog, I suppose has found it's purpose. 

Some days I will tell you my story. Someday it may be a friends, or an enemies story. And someday it may be one of my stories; who knows what you'll get?

Just sit back, relax, take one of the apple juice cartons we're passing around and let me open my book of tales, and see what we have for today . . . Ah yes . . .

This is a good one . . .