The New and Improved Cynical Idealist

2 AM...

In the beginning I was cursed with weekend insomnia.

Yes indeed. It's actually not even 2 am anymore, its 2:24AM and I'm still awake with one of those weird side of my head headaches. I assume its from one too many cigarettes or one too many coffees but it could very well be a combination of both. Why do I do this to myself? Well, I had a lot of interesting occurrences today involving writing, so I just kept myself awake until my head was done screaming at me that it had another idea that fit with nothing I've previously established.

Well... that's the story of my stories. I've began every endeavor of mine with nothing but a few words, and they just kind of happened. Yep, I admit, I'm not an outliner in general. I try, but there's more often than not, some deep inclination that tells me to wander off the beaten path that I so belligerently beat with my bare hands. I'm a masochist I suppose, after all I wanted a daughter first and see where that got me? I have a few extra wrinkles now, and I'm just starting to see that sliver of silver in my hair.

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that sliver of silver, I think I'd look dashing with one! I mean, now that I think of it, my favorite fictitious characters all have that trademark bad-assness. Rogue, Two-Face, Boaz, and Pepe le pew to name a few.

Once it comes in fully, likely around the time this next kid shows up, I think I might try out for a super-hero position, or maybe a looney-toons job. I think I could do well in either department. I mean, I've downed triple atomic wings at Quaker Steak and came out just fine. That's right, FIRESTORM AINT GOT NOTHING ON ME! I'm not saying I don't regret those mistakes like those. Trust me hot wings are always regrettable.

And that leads me to a point I'd like to make, which prior to this random, middle of the night eureka moment I just had, would likely not have come and I'd still be droning on about nothing... like I am now.

The point I'd like to make is: I travel for a living. I work in nuclear power plants, refineries, aircraft carriers, and I've even worked in the Pentagon. As such in my travels I spend a lot of my 'duty' time in public restrooms. Yeah... I'm going that direction. My gripe with this isn't about the cleanliness as most of them are pretty well kept, but rather the occupants.

There's something about public restrooms, no matter how clean they are, I just don't feel clean coming out. Kind of like eating at a Waffle House. You think it's a good idea, and then reality shows up about 30 minutes later. This is right around the same time your triple, smothered, covered, buttered, diced, peppered, capped, and chopped hashbrown shows up, and you notice there's more bubblegum underneath your table than there is on the shelf of an airport convenience store. There I said it.

I've been subjected to a great deal of strange occurrences inside of these places, bathrooms, not waffle house. Occurrences that beg me to ask, America... what were you thinking? Now I'm not making a cheap jibe at my beloved country, but I am making a cheap jibe at some of the people its produced. I mean... who goes into a bathroom and thinks its acceptable to spark up conversation whilst - going to the bathroom? It's just an awkward thing to do. I'm not going to go any further than that for the simple fact that I would likely lose a friend or two with this.

Such is the consequence of writing anything at, um, 2:37AM. But I do recall a H.P. Lovecraft quote,

“At night, when the objective world has slunk back into its cavern and left dreamers to their own, there come inspirations and capabilities impossible at any less magical and quiet hour. No one knows whether or not he is a writer unless he has tried writing at night.”

Honestly, I doubt this rant qualifies me as a writer worthy of Lovecraft's notice, but I've done it. I wrote at night. And it is with that that I now write: Goodnight.