My big sadness

How are you feeling, farmboy? Last I remember, you were feeling a little poorly.

Much better, thanks for asking. I got some sleep, some good quality sleep, and some other physical stuff that I don't want or need to talk about.

Which makes me very curious, of course.

Of course. It's no big thing. I was constipated, now I'm not.

I'm not much into scatological stuff, you know, jokes and shit...

Literally...

Ha ha. Very funny. There's probably an opening on "Last Comic Standing" if you want.

One thing that concerns me big time is that I had real problems with my hands at a performance today. My fuckin' Carpel Tunnel stuff is getting worse. Fuck.

Hey, I bought salad and bananas today. I need to eat more vegetables and drink more water. I need to smoke less weed, but...we'll see. I fuckin' love weed.

I know.

Man, this conversation. I should be more entertaining.

Why, farmboy?

Because all this stuff I'm talkin' about is so fuckin' trivial. Has it come to this? I've gone from discussing Jonathan Franzen to bowel movements.

It's real life. Much of it is trivial.

Yeah, well, I don't have to talk about it all.

But we all do...

It's that pesky human being stuff, I tell you. We are social creatures. Which always fucks up everything.

Me, I'm always the outsider. I'm the reporter trying to be so fuckin' objective. I'm always removed. No wonder I smoke weed all the fuckin' time.

That's my big sadness in life, you know, is that I'm always removed from everyone. It's the only way I know to be. And, man, it's fuckin' killing me.

Man, I gotta move away from these thoughts, fuck. Oh man, I can't get that close. Shit. Fuck. I gotta get away...

You're okay, farmboy. You're fine. You're safe. You're just...Don't panic...

Breathe...

You okay, farmboy?

I'm okay. Let's move on.