As I am typing this, it is raining outside. A full gut, bottomed-out blood sugar, and rain on a Friday afternoon are NOT what I had in mind. It is near impossible stay awake in such an environment, much less remain coherent and productive.

I don’t mind the occasional hunting outing, mind you. I do it mainly to placate my father and his band of friends. Personally I’d rather sleep late because I find the idea of freezing my todger off in the woods in the middle of the wee hours…erm…how do I put this… unappealing. To say the least. You can’t wear deodorant. You can’t use a soap that has more than .0000000000001 part/billion of good-smell in it. You can step on a twig. You have to sit there, scared to death in the dark that the Chupacabras is going to come slurp your blood from a tap he puts in your juglar.

Then the noises start. Are they from animals? Are they the “Yo! Doe! I’m horny! Grunt grunt!” sounds that the elusive buck you seek makes when he’s deciding whether to run from you or mount you? See, I don’t get that. Why would you want to purposefully titillate a horny (in both senses of the word) 100lb+ animal into coming and vying for mating privileges with you?

Perhaps it could be a crazed hunter from the plot of land adjacent to you, purposefully straying onto your land in pursuit of a deer that has left his own domain? These beer-fueled nimrods are brandishing the latest in firearm technology and have a hard-on for animal death. They are often fueled by alcohol and the occasional hit of crystal methamphetamine, which makes them a tribe of gibbering, slobbering, lead-flinging lunatics.

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Ever noticed that sometimes, when your self esteem is at a historical low, all that is needed to bring you back to life is a small word of encouragement from someone you hold in exceptionally high esteem? A small word of validation from someone who has noticed your own works that you consider to be inferior, but they find quite good? You know who you are and you don’t know how much it’s goaded me into pursuing my passions of long ago…before bills, work, and all that crap that comes with growing up assaulted my artistic butt and squelched out my need for release in that field. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.