I Will Be Leaving Tuesday

Right. I was going to make this an audio-blog thing, but I forgot my pass code thing, so now you have to read instead of listening to the soothing sounds of Yossarian talk about shit. Also I was lazy and didn't feel like interrupting my video games with typing, but now, here we are.
Today while I was running I saw, for the first time in my life, a Bald Eagle. He, I assume he was a he because of his manliness, was perched on this branch that overhangs above the lake I run around everyday. It was nice. Made me happy.
You know why I like this blog so much? I'll tell you why, because it's like a run down gin tank. Dank. Sort of gross. And there are always the same 5 or 6 people here. Seriously, I was checking out stat counter, it's embarrassing. Some of you, I won't name any names (all of ya'll) don’t do nearly enough to spread the word. I feel like Jesus if his Apostles were lazy and opted not to proliferate the message, and if he only had 5 or 6 Apostles, and if his message was about MILF's. Maybe I don't really feel like Jesus at all then.
There are days, inside my head, I say fuck it and I am 14 again. Fuck you I am 14. I scream "Betting on the BUUUUULLLLLLL in the Heather," because I listen to Sonic Youth. Fuck you I'm 14. I have replaced sports with moshing and I make fun of testosterone enriched aggressive males. Fuck you I'm 14 over here. The music I like has yet to explode. The women I like hate me. My hair is curly, but that's okay because I'm fucking 14. Betting on the BUUUUUULLLLLLL in the Heather. My pants are tattered. My shirt is from Goodwill. Why? I'm 14 and betting on the BUUUUULLLLLLLL in the Heather. I hate math. I like science. I like English but I skip that class a lot. I dread gym class. I sleep in history class and still manage a 96% average. I'm 14 what do you want from me? I smoke cigarettes in the bathroom while I bet on the BUUUUULLLLL in the Heather.
This would have made a much better audio post.
I made this woman the other day out of spare parts I have around the house. Not woman parts, but just random shit, I guess. For instance, her skin is just some star fragments that I had on my kitchen table, no real element would do for my bitch. Her lips are flower pedals I found between the pages of an old book. I gave her these emerald and topaz hybrid stones I created for her eyes. I had the majestic mineral sitting around on my nightstand just incase. I filled her brain with all the books of poetry I have. Her innards consist of an old garden hose, a vacuum tube and small lamp because she has this inner glow I find calming. I fashioned her fingernails out of some diamonds I had in a small bag hidden behind my toilet. Her heart is just a small balloon. It's red at least. I prayed to God. I asked him to make her real. He did. Thing is, I made her too much like you. She took off and slashed my tires so I couldn't follow her.