A week has gone past. I'm in Big Bend country, down Alpine Texas. Holy fuck, I thought that I'd be in Florida by now. I forgot how damn huge you guys are. Haven't been over here at least ten years, completely forgot. (Strong winds and routing around a fire here in Texas didn't help. Friday was ten hours driving, a few breaks. Sheeeiiit, I'm feeling like a dumbass. And exhausted.)
So I call the Florida man up, I can't just not show. Completely not fucking cool to do that to someone. "Hello, is that XXX?" "Who is this?" "It's Black Poison Soul."
We spent a few minutes jawing and I let him go back to his evening with family and all. Got to hear each other's voice, I made the effort. It's lame to say, really wanted to get there. I was just dumb. Will most probably yack with him again in the next two-three weeks.
Then called up my cousin in Canada - voicemail - damn, left a lame-ass message.
Feel like a fuckin dipshit.
Next time I'll just fly to where I wanna check out, hire a car, go see the local history and scenery and hike and stuff. You could probably spend a month in each state - I hope you Americans really take advantage of it. You have so much to go look at and do.
I'm gonna have to fly to Florida next year sometime. Do it the smart way. This time, defeated by reality.
So a quick check back with family in NZ, and friends on FaceCrap. My mate who married the hairdresser has changed all his man-shit profile stuff to wedding photos.
Sad. You once had large, plentiful balls, man. Now you've pussified yourself, and the look on her face - that you obviously can't see - is so fuckin smug with victory.
It's like my balls also winced in sympathy with him.
You know when you see another man kicked in the nuts? Your balls just clench in sympathy?
Stick a fork in him. He's done.
I would have a glass of Grand Marnier in memory...like, in remembrance for a dead mate...only that stuff is back in New Zealand. I'll have to do it when I get back.