WORSHIP THIS FISH!!!

The days are getting shorter, but you wouldn't know it from the heat. It's so damn hot and my sleeves have always been inappropriately lengthed for this climate. Roll 'em up and keep 'em there. I tried to find new t-shirts, but the ones I found were dumb. Not good for wearing, just good for nothing. Not even two dollars if you ask me. We went to this store with the used wares, St. Vincent de Paul, as named. I found a good coat that was only six dollars. London Fog. Dark blue with black, furry lining. I can't wait to wear the sum'bitch, but it won't be soon, no. Went to this vintage shop a few weeks back and they had this lustrous poly long-sleeve with a kinda drab, kinda busy print. Real ugly flowers. Of course I liked it a lot, but thirty-five (somehow made me want it all the more) dollars? For a used shirt? No thanks, bub. Can I use that word here? Bub? Am I too young to say things like that? Too old? Are there age restrictions on certain words? Well, bub bless me. Bury my head in bub. Hope I topple into a tumbler spang full of bub and drown in't.
So, yeah, shorter days are on their ways. Getting harder now to find and kill the new evenings just right. How did you spend your's shorter? I found a really perfect square of blue sky and just stared straight ahead. I do that sometimes. I relax my eyes so my vision goes soft, and I can see all these little squiggley blurries go racing across my viewfinder. Do you see those, too? Am I just going blind? Maybe it's microbes swimming over my lenses. Never have gotten a straight answer. Me, I loafed. I lay under the covers with dreamy all day, and I pretended to be asleep. He knew I wasn't. He rolled over and told me that I gave him a hard-on. I didn't know whether to be flattered or ashamed. Maybe not ashamed. Offended is right. But, he's such a sweet kid, really. I'll give him the doubt's benefit. I tell people that I think he meant well when I tell 'em. What people do you tell? Well, you for one. Just for startsies, okay?
Less and less, yup. Same old stink, though. Same dumb looks and aching legs. Lower back and what's left of the ticker tape. How can I feel any different if I keep seeing you like this? How can anything change if my clothes won't? Regularity isn't to be attempted with so little to go on. What would help, not just what would bring a full circle. Like the cat. With all his lunatic frazzlin' he serves a constant reminder to me that not only is there still blood flowing beneath this skin, but those claws need some major trimming, too. You old fool. You're forgetting the things that you knew were true when you were fifteen years old. You were right, then, too. You haven't been right in a long time. What would you like to see, in the end? Whatever? I guess it can wait until next year. This one's neatly wasted. It's autumn again. Now go fuck yourselves, like you do this time every year.

We saw this guy while we were out walking around the Quarter the other night. I think he's cool. His father's name is Pud.