My inner iPod

It's Saturday night, and here I am with a cup 'o joe and a marijuana-chocolate-chip cookie. Life is okay as long as I don't really think of things.


So it's kinda diversion city. I got the Levon Helm autobiography and the new John Irving novel, and there's film noir on Netflix. So things are okay right now. 


I was wondering, farmboy. Have you ever thought of writing your autobiography? Even just for yourself?


I can't even imagine wanting to. I mean, it would be so fuckin' boring. I could see writing a musical history, just for myself. I sorta measure everything by the music I listen to.


That makes sense.


That's the way it's always been. I ain't complaining, though. It's a good way to go through life, you know, with your own individualized soundtrack. I have my inner iPod, so to speak, and I check in on it from time to time to see where it's gonna take me.


How's it working?


Batteries are charged and it's on shuffle, man.