shiver shiver.

its getting a wee bit cold out there kiddies.
those of you down south where it never drops have no idea what im talking about. its called cold weather. it makes your teeth click and your bones shake. the trees they die (no foliage this year, just green trees to dead trees in a matter of 3 days). the fuzzy animals dissapear and everyone bundles up.
no more free looks at girly girls legs as they frolick in the sun in their extra short shorts... nope, now is the time of the sweatshirts.
the cold bitter biting weather may have something to do with my sudden demotivation... maybe. possibly. you never know.
other than that i realized i was having a slow week. i saw one sign that said "slow hump. 20" and i cracked up midstreet. if you see the funny good for you.. if you dont, go ask your sister. someday you might see the picture and then youll get it... whatever man, i found it hilarious at the time... which is why i think i was having a slow week...
i have been having some very interesting and revealing, maybe even risque conversations with some people lately. its been fun. especially if you came to my college and met the horribly repressed people that live in this godforsaken shit of a town... do you realize that cursing is really rare here, people do say fudge, dangit and the like here... and they might mean it... but its not the same as hearing a fuck, shit, etc... i miss cursing. its cleansing to bitch and spew forth a random bile of flowing profanities that flows like so much water. fuckall. people here can be downright boring most of the time... its the natives man.
the natives, the farmers, the good ole boys... those people just come off as naive fucking farmers. sure they might drink and be rowdy, but i just see it as them shedding off years of angst while living under their mamas skirt... it doesnt seem natural to them...like they try to hard to compensate. and then they all turn out to be almost identical to each other, same musical taste style of clothing generic look haircut walk talk everything just screams "i have no clear idea of who the fuck i am!! and i just want to fit in and not be ostracized (if they even know a word that eloquent) by the rest of the country bumpkins... mama." just wish there was some fucking variety here... it all seems to eventually blur together like a washed out painting... variety is the spice of life and this speck of country tastes like a fucking limabean. i bitch too much about this stupid little place.
maybe cause i desire to be in someplace with variety (true variety) like miami, san fran, la, ny, chicago even (oasis of the barren wasteland of the midwest). a man can dream...