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Did I Really Say I’d Post Something Today?

Well, kids, I think this officially qualifies as a funk.

Not ‘da funk‘, which would be sweet. Particularly if I could find some of ‘da noise‘ lying around to go with it. Nor does it seem to be the ‘soul brother’ sort of funk. And it’s definitely not ‘fun-kay‘, which is also pretty tasty, as I understand it. But I’m not really sure that I do; I was never too good with the hip kiddie lingo. In high school, I was voted ‘Least Likely to Raise the Roof’. Meh.

Be that as it may, I’m pretty sure that I can positively identify what I’m in as a funk. It’s not a particularly bad funk — there aren’t any violent mood swings, or temper tantrums, or all-black, weepy Goth posing. Nothing like that. I don’t even have trouble getting out of bed in the morning; hell, I’m usually up earlier than I really want to be — and if that’s not a good reason for a funk, then I’d like to see one, dammit. Eight am was made for schoolkids and roosters; count me down and out and drooling on my pillow until ten, if I have anything to say about it.

No, the problem has come after the getting out of bed part. Because after that… well, I mainly just don’t want to do anything. Haven’t for a week or so now, actually. And some days, I haven’t done anything. Which would be spec-fucking-tacular, really, except for the whole ‘funk’ thing. Sort of takes the fun out of playing hooky from life, you know?

(And hey, if you’re the sort of loony who gets all tenty reading this stuff, then you should be extra-glad I’m here now. As much as I dig writing crazy nonsense, last time I checked, ‘blogging’ counts as ‘anything’, so it hasn’t been on my list of giggly shit to do for a while. But here I am, anyway. Some would say that makes me a ‘trooper’, folks.

And others would counter that I still need a place to bitch, and to try out words like ‘tenty’. I hope those people catch whatever funk I’m in. Damned smartasses.)

So mostly — as much as I’ve been able to get away with, anyway — I’ve just shuffled around, watching TV or playing video games, watching life roll past out o the corner of my eye. I’m not sure how I ended up in this funky place, really. Not this time, at least. I’ve been funky before, you know. And, I’m certain I’ll be funky again, somewhere down the line. Into each life, a bit of funk must fall. I think it was Keats who said that. Or Beck. Or maybe Tupac. I really don’t feel like looking it up right now, but you get the gist.

Anyway, I hope to snap out of this mini-malaise soon. Hell, summer is finally creeping into New England and it’s actually possible to venture outdoors in a pair of shorts without getting your knees and nads frostbitten. And not necessarily in that order.

I imagine I’m just tired; I had a couple of whirlwind weeks, and probably just need a couple of days to recharge. That’s the thing about being an only child — being around other people is mostly lots of fun, but it really takes it out of you. Or maybe that’s just me — some sort of social malnourishment I suffered as a child. Or maybe I was dropped on my personality. That would explain a lot, actually.

At any rate, I think this has gone on quite long enough tonight. As entertaining as I’ve tried to make this — c’mon, you’re still grinning over ‘tenty’; just admit it — it’s still a bit darker than this silly, goofy, gigglitatious page ought to be. So if you’re looking for something absurd, then have a dig through the archives — there’s 101 weeks of drivel there to keep you busy and frightened. Hop right in.

(Hey, maybe that should be the name of the memoirs I’m never going to write: ‘101 Weeks of Drivel‘. That’s kind of catchy. I’m not sure it beats my old title, though: ‘The Douchebag Diaries‘. Damn. They’re both pretty good. And since I’m never writing either, why don’t I never write them both, eh? And hell, there’s probably another title floating around somewhere I could use — I smell a trilogy. On paper, anyway — which, in this case, means not on paper. Ooch, I think I just gave myself a headache with that one. Owie.)

Okay, that about wraps things up. Happy ‘Mem Day’, everyone. I’m out.