Who do I still think I am??

This one's about the tiny egoless spot.

MOB-RELATED ACTIVITY:

Hello, and what is up?? Thanks for taking a few of your day's precious minutes to see what I'm up to...and believe me, there's not a lot going on today, in part due to it being a holiday, and small little towns like mine shut half of everything down on days like today. It's only annoying because I've got some things I wanna get out of the way, like making appointments and rescheduling others.

Andre The Blog Monkey isn't having those issues though. Looks like tomorrow he'll be taking piano lessons with blainecindy. Now that he's exhibiting a bit of worldliness and some manners, I think he'll be in for a delightful time with Cindy...maybe she'll even take him on a guided tour of "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise"  after some ivory tinklin' ("ivory tinklin'"... I'm thinking that had an entirely different meaning to Andre a few weeks ago).

No sign of the bOSS (with an uncapital B) anywhere. I think he's avoiding us, but that's my opinion. These Mob types...you never can tell what's really up.

BCF PROMPT: "Tell us about your writing space. Where do you write your blog posts?"

Interesting...a few days ago I had an idea that sort of mimicked this exact prompt. I was gonna make a short video using the camera on my laptop and the one on my old Blackberry that featured the little area I live in. Obviously, since you're not watching it, I haven't done it yet...but it's in the pipeline. I just need to find the ambition, and I want to make sure I get some Saturday morning footage of the anti-war hippies that protest on the corner of my street.

For now though, you'll have to take comfort in what I say my conditions are. These entries come at you from the foot of the bed I sleep on in a tiny little place known in Cortland as The Gable Inn. The room is seriously about as big as a parking space...it's a bed and a dresser and not much else. There are probably jail cells bigger than where I live, but I'm not complaining...it beats being homeless and sleeping in parks or laundromats. The bills are included with the rent (even Wi-Fi), and once a week someone comes by to clean and change the sheets. I wish I were making this up.

But I'm fine with the setup for now. It's a far cry from Briarcliff, 542, or even The Ruckushouse (which was torn down a few years after DMFM and I moved out), but it's made enough of an impression on me to almost want to embrace this place. I won't grow old here- no, I've seen old and it's not pretty here by any stretch of the imagination. And I'm not one for growing old as much as old grows on you, anyway. I've still got time to figure a lot of things out, including where I want to live...and I've lived with myself for too long to know that luxuries like roommates aren't for me. It sounds weird, but I'm happiest when I'm lonely. There's a certain comfort that comes along with knowing you're best when not bothered by anything or anyone.

I've written a ton of blog entries...that's a fact. And I've written a few good ones here and there, in many different environments. I choose to live in the "here and now" because, well, that's where I am. It doesn't always lead to exciting stuff, but I think I'm over trying to be sensational. I just want to be. Right now, where I'm at...this is my vehicle. I'll drive it into the ground, burn it up, and figure out what's next when that time presents itself to me.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

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No doubt there's a stigma attached to your personality when you tell people you enjoy writing. It runs the gamut between mock supportiveness and downright ugly persecution. Well, fuck all that, because the same people who say shit are gonna be the ones who pay money for your words. Being made fun of is part of the plan, whether they care to be part of the process or not.

I thought I retired this song many entries ago, but I'll be glad to repost it again under the guise of situational personal neediness. In lieu of saying anything else, I love this song and my preferences should never be questioned because, well, me...and that is all. (album: Just Enough Education To Perform {link:http://www.amazon.com/Just-Enough-Education-Perform-Stereophonics/dp/B00005B1GY/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1392710481&sr=8-1&keywords=stereophonics+just+enough+education+to+perform}; lyrics: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/stereophonics/mrwriter.html).

{link:http://www.amazon.com/Lyrics-Writing-Better-Words-Songwriting/dp/0879308850/ref=sr_1_13?ie=UTF8&qid=1392681330&sr=8-13&keywords=Stereophonics+Mr+Writer}

THE DAILY BOX SCORE:

Haters gonna hate.

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Mad props to drifter for the nearly spot-on review of "At Least That's What I Heard" . Writers never get enough reviews, so I can't begin to say how thankful I am.

And I'll leave you fans of this crevasse of internet delectability a kindly reminder of my headspace:

Peace, why don't you tell it like it always is, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!

You can do this, on a level you never knew you had within you.