Divine Comedy

Tail end of my twenties and I am joining this "information age." It is late, or maybe it is early, guess it doesn't matter much. I am trying out this blogging thing my wife seems to like so much. I have never had any kind of page like this, I am a bit too old for a myspace page (always figured a myspace page would end in a seedy motel room with a 16 year old and a few eight balls of blow), and not desperate enough to be added to Adult Friend Finder (happily married tyvm). So it is with a shot and a grin I throw myself out to the millions (or 3) faceless strangers who would want to read about my life and my musings. I really think this is more for me then for anyone else.
So where to begin? I guess the beginning would be appropriate, seeing as to how I do not know how it will end. I have a nice suburban home, a beautiful wife, a fat cat, and a red-headed stepchild of a puggle. I run wire in peoples homes and hang ridiculously large flat panel televisions on their walls. I drink more then I should and spend way too many hours playing games for a grown man. All in all I can't complain, but I guess a part of me does....
I love music, or at least I used to. I like the kind of punk that makes you want to run through the streets firing an AK into the sky and lob moltov's at police when the album has been spun. I like the kind of metal that makes you want to go slaughter a goat in the name of norse gods after the last guttural tyraid has been belched....... or at least i used too. About a year ago I discovered AM talk radio...... and my life changed. Not sure if Rush Limbaugh has some type of hypnotic/heroinesque quality in his flatulent voice, or my tastes just started to change. Gone are the days of flying down the street, woofers pumping out sounds offensive to all but one. Now it a leisurely summers drive with fiery diatribes at moderate volumes from the left and the right side of the aisle. Life is funny this way.
It is funny in many a way. One day you are a burnout anarchist youth fueled by boobs and booze, and then the next, you are, well....here. Laying in bed with your passed out wife, cat at your feet, dog snoring in the kitchen. You are bored, it feels like 1:30 is almost dawn when it used to be 4:30. It makes your head swim, makes one wonder if it a good thing or a great thing, or possibly a bad thing. When I was younger, I never thought i would see 21. When I hit that milestone, it felt like every day after that was living on borrowed time. Then as the days churn on, there comes a realisation that the time is no longer borrowed, and probably never was. I was either saved or enslaved. Life is good, life is fun, but it is no longer wild. Was my father this way? My grandfather? Is this just the progression of the male life? Is this what makes beer taste so swell? Is Neil Peart really as good of a drummer as everyone says?
If I could spout one useless fact about myself, it would be I love to ramble. Not so much orally (unless the whiskey is hittin), but with the written word, I could expunge tangent and rants for days. If I don't know you, and you have come this far, you have my deepest sympathies, and I kinda worry about you. If I do know you, what I just said goes double.
Since this is my first blog I thought I would go for the dark and edgy feel. After all this I think I may have to go into the bathroom and start taking pictures of myself from that above the head angle that seems to be so popular now a days. (I like to play emo when I write, makes me feel hip) Sounds like a good idea to me, I need to do something, getting a little stir crazy in bed.
Think I have bored myself and maybe you enough for the evening. I shall return after I unrepress some childhood memories and leave another rant for you perusal pleasures.

In Love and Rage... Fluffy