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Editor’s Note: Eh, screw it. I deleted this post three hours ago, but it showed up in Google Reader. So, I’m putting back for the public record. I have no idea what it is really about. I’m not upset or anything, but I’m sure it looks like I am, or I am struggling with the idea of emotionality (is that a word?) vs. manliness. Whatever. Even though I was laughing at your comments of the previous post, I guess it was embarrassing to be seen as needing a “hug.” (vomit) So this was my response, a writer’s way at showing off my manhood, like a bird’s plume.

Someday, I will grow a brain. Two weeks before going to a woman’s conference, you would think I would be smart enough to not write a post talking about big c*cks, even metaphorically. I must have the worst reputation. What is wrong with me? What kind of professional am I? Why am I going to a woman’s conference? I’m a man, dammit!

One amusing sidenote, is that Finn read this post on Google Reader and misinterpreted this post as being more serious than it was, and since she is married and understood men, emailed me — wanting to make sure that she didn’t hurt my fragile male ego.

She’s really sweet.

She wanted me to make sure that her mention of the big c*ck in the comment was a reference to my newly-found bravado, and not my writing, which she did find honest and manly. This started a back and forth, where I insisted that my feeling weren’t hurt, and that I actually appreciated her honesty. She said she was rooting for me. I said she was a good friend.

Of course, suddenly I realized that the subject matter on all these emails back and forth was titled, quite simply, “Your C*ck.”

“What are you doing?” asked Sophia, as she entered the room.

Delete.

It would be too hard to explain.

Here’s the post.

++++

Do you ever notice that 99% of everything written is usually common sense information directed at people who already agree, sometimes cleaned up for a different audience and presented with fancier words? Maybe that’s the point of writing. To inform, educate, to inspire. To reaffirm.

I’d like to be one of those writers. An influencer. I think that is where the money is. Most people read stuff because they want a problem solved. Usually, the readership knows the answer already, but it feels good when someone with authority says the same as you believe.

My biggest problem with ever becoming an influential writer is that I don’t sit down thinking about your problem. I think about MY problem — I’m too self-absorbed — pondering what is concerning me, scaring me, bothering me at that moment. If I knew the answer already, I wouldn’t be writing the piece. What’s the point? My answer will never be the same as yours. Perhaps confidence is part of being influential. You have to believe that YOUR answer is the same for everyone.

Why are there so many posts telling you what you should and shouldn’t do or feel or think? I guess people like the authority of the voice. Those are very difficult for me to write. It is something I need to work on.

For instance, yesterday, I decided to write my once a year, obligatory BlogHer post. I sat down and asked myself, “What am I most afraid of when I meet people in New York?” I reveled in the fear. I had other emotions as well, but I zeroed in on the fear, because that is what I need to overcome.

After writing my last post about a fear — or an emotion — I had, my good friend Finn commented, ” And… we’re back. That big c*ck you had yesterday just crawled back up inside your pelvis.” The comment made me chuckle, and I took it as helpful — even loving — and not at all as an insult.

She was right, but only in one context.

My fear is unmanly, perhaps, but my writing about it certainly was not. It took more guts to write than the previous post, where I was a super-strong advocate for my FIL in the hospital. That was easy to publish. I knew I would get a positive response from readers, and that sighing women would be throwing their bras onto my stage. Sure, I had a big c*ck that day in the hospital, but as a writer — I was pretty limp. It is easy to make yourself seem heroic, clever, impressive, or wise.

I would like to suggest to Finn that my c*ck WAS just as large when I wrote that post. I had no idea what the reaction would be, but published it anyway. It wasn’t even that good of a post, but it was something I dared to share. I could have written many different posts about the conference. I could have catered to my readers. I could have told others to have fun at the conference, not to worry about the private parties, and how all bloggers are same at heart.

“Right on,” others would say.

Of course, I wouldn’t believe what I was saying, and no one else would, either, but it would be the accepted story that we all agree on, like the Biblical tale of Moses crossing the Red Sea.

I might start to Inform, Educate, Inspire soon as a writer, because I think that is what you have to do to get published. I need you to come away with some information or knowledge. Then I can start charging you money. I appreciate those type of posts when you write them. But those aren’t my favorite posts of yours. When I can see the fear in your eyes — as the writer — as you press publish, that’s when I am impressed with your big c*ck.

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CONTEST

Eden Fantasys is providing me with a prize to give away to you, my lovely, dirty readers. It’s a $25 gift certificate to their shop, and believe me when I tell you, there are lots of things for girls and guys alike in that store. You could even use that $25 toward their Kissa glass vibrator. It’s waterproof and everything.

RULES

1. Email me your funniest sex stories. I want the stuff that makes me spit beer through my nose. Confusing super glue for lube is tragic, by the way, not especially funny. Email your stories to karl at secondhandkarl dot com. Be sure to put Crazy Sex Story in the SUBJECT.

2. Deadline is MIDNIGHT on Wednesday, March 24. That’s just before we officially hit Thursday. Don’t be late.

3. One entry per person, please.

4. I will not be judging the contest. Instead, I have chosen three remarkable individuals to read the stories and come up with a winner and a runner-up. The judges are: Michel (LeSombre), Shannon (Bubblewench), and Janet (IzzyMom). They won’t see the names or emails of the people sending the stories, just the stories themselves.

5. Funniest story receives the $25 gift certificate to Eden Fantasys. Runner-up will receive a special prize from the SecondHand TryptoGear store. It might even contain a peek at the new 2HT design, coming to a browser near you very soon.

So…get to writing. Make us laugh with your dirty, dirty self.

a

Beyond the steam there are trees and through them hills and over them lakes and across them mountains and then the vast stretches of forever are all we have left. Behind me are children laughing loudly. They are the passengers of this train and our ride is full of obstacles and metaphors. Tracks are long, lost and out. The view from the window is full of things that float like stars and for every breath taken a new turn awaits to take it away.

There is light at this end of this tunnel and it trips fantastic.

Twice before, I've talked about the Washington Post Mensa Invitational. The Invitational called on readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. I came up with my own group of words and in the comments, many of you came up with ones that were more clever than anything I could think of.

Here are some of the examples from the Mensa Invitational:

1. Ignoranus: A person who’s both stupid and an asshole.
2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
3. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn’t get it.
4. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease.
5. Caterpallor: The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you’re eating.

And here are some of my new additions to the dictionary:

1. Asshope: A guy that you date who is an asshole but you still hope that he'll prove he's a good guy.
2. Vagile: Extremely flexible and gymnastically inclined in the vaginal area.
3. Underbear: Tighty whities that don't hide the large amounts of hair poking out.
4. Stripease: A woman who drops her clothes way too easily.
5. Dourk: A really bitter, depressed geek.
6. Pelevision: Someone who buys a huge television and only uses it to watch soccer.
7. Cockblacking: Losing a girl to an African-American.
8. Warrantsy: The feeling that makes you buy an extended warranty for a piece of electronics or a car because the salesman scares you into it..
9. Weepon: A little tiny weapon.
10. Massuage: When you tell yourself that a massage ending in a happy ending is still legitimate.

Do you have an altered word that you think is better than these? Take any dictionary word, and add, subtract, or change ONE LETTER, and give the new definition in the comments.

So I mentioned that my Resolution this month hit a snag. Big time. Bottom line is, I got fired. From one of my gigs, not both.

Not that it’s a huge shock, mind you. After all, I haven’t worked in quite a while. I take the blame for that.

I won’t say exactly which site fired me, but it doesn’t involve travel blogging, and it might rhyme loosely with Brain Trawler.

No matter. It’s lit a fire under my ass. I plan on doing more travel stories until I find another gig to add to the hotel blogging. So if you know of anything, please let me know. Especially if it involves me writing more humor’ish, slice-of-life stuff. I’m also going to get my other little project going. I told you, I have ideas.

Course, this reaffirms what I’ve already said. TequilaCon is definitely out for me this year. And it doesn’t look good for BlogHer, either. Disappointing, to say the least. For you, I mean. Ahem.

In the meantime, I thought I’d write a little letter to any future employers I have. I’m sure they’re all reading this and are interested in anything and everything I have to say.

Dear Future Employers:

Hi, I wanted to take a moment to give you a list of things you might try in order to make my life with you more pleasant. Or more professional. Whatever.

1. You should know up front that I prefer being notified when I get fired. You know, as close to when you hire my replacements as is convenient for you. To clarify, telling me months later – only after I am ready to return to work – is just a tad late for my taste. I realize it’s a personal preference, but it’s MY personal preference.
2. If you simply must fire me, I prefer getting a phone call over getting an email 15 minutes before end-of-business. It’s more professional and, as an added bonus, it doesn’t make your company seem like it truly doesn’t give a fuck about their employees.
3. Please don’t try to explain your decisions for firing me, unless you’re giving me REAL reasons. I’m not as dumb as I look. For example, saying that it’s because of “budgetary constraints” when you only have a finite number of writing slots per day, and it doesn’t matter who writes them or gets paid for them, is kinda bogus’ish.
4. If you’re going to fire me, please do me the kindness of removing me from the company email lists first. I have enough email to wrestle with every day, I don’t need more.
5. If you happen to be in, say, the gossip industry, please don’t pretend to class up the joint by not using words like “butt” or “nude.” Especially if it’s a blog skewed toward mommies. Because moms happen to be nude a lot, and they also have butts. And they’re also there to read GOSSIP. Running a gossip blog – and again, this is only if you happen to be in that industry – and telling the writers they can’t use words like “sex” or “boobs” is a little like telling TMZ not to take photos. It can be done, mind you, but no one is going to want to read it any more. And I think the traffic reflects that. Or *would*…sorry.
6. I like employers who send me things like free coffee or Cherry Coke Zero. And massage gift certificates. Even without the Happy Ending added on, it’s still a nice perk.

I have other ideas, too, if you care to ask for my input. Most involve naked women, but I do have a great one that includes a shaved giraffe.

Sincerely,

Karl Erikson

a

I try to maintain a pretty constant flow of quality posts here at Honea Express. Constant being relative and quality being stuff my mom marks as liked on Facebook. This post isn't either of those things.

It may appear to the naked eye that I've been MIA, but that is not the case. I've been wandering the internets and dropping knowledge into whatever web will catch it. Also, non-knowledge.

If you have the time I'd love to share some of it with you. Seriously, it's either humor me or go back to work, and we all know how that will end.

At DadCentric I've been waxing poetic about stuff that is centric to dads, namely this dad and the raising of two boys. A Tale of Two Mornings is a little slice of life piece where one day sort of represents the whole pie - à la mode .

Also at DadCentric I pay my respects to J.D. Salinger in The Day was Mixed with Foul and Rye. It's funny, I always knew that Catcher in the Rye played a big part in helping me find my voice as a writer, but it wasn't until yesterday - nearly 20 years after I read the book that I realized just how much it had influenced me. Holden Caulfield is a classic unreliable narrator, something I later embraced with open arms in the Pushcart-nominated Madness and Bubblegum. I just tooted my own horn, excuse me.

Over at UpTake I've been talking about how I came to be in this country illegally and a little place down the street that may very well be the BEST. DOG. PARK. EVER.

It pays the bills passes the time.

I've also been using my children as guinea pigs by having them consume their body weight in Pom and Funky Monkey snacks. They also went to a very cool warehouse event for bloggers that changed their life forever, give or take an hour.

Pom sent me some of their wonderful 100% pomegranate juice and it was delicious. It was a bit tart for the kids so I took the liberty of making them some pomegranate lemonade - which was also pretty tart, but they loved it.

Here's why I agreed to try Pom: A) It's healthy. It was right before New Years and I thought some healthy stuff in the fridge would be a great way to get on track in 2010. B) When I was a kid my neighbor had a pomegranate tree (bush?) in her backyard and we used to pick the fruit and throw them as hard as we could against the back of her garage. They smashed against that white brick like Jackson Pollock's lunch. Or possibly his head. Yes, we were hooligans but we made up for it by staying off drugs. Occasionally. My point is that pomegranates and I have a history.

I used most of the Pom making pomegranate martinis. They were fantastic.

The Funky Monkey treats were hit and miss. I liked all of the flavors but the kids didn't care for them - not until I opened the MANGOJ (see what they did there?), which went over pretty well with the oldest. He loves him some mango.

For the record, the cat also liked them, which is kind of weird, but so are cats.

What is a Funky Monkey? It's dried fruit THAT CRUNCHES! Basically it a freeze-dried snack that manages to maintain nearly all of the flavor and nutrients found in the fresh fruit version. Again, I was going with the healthy angle. Funky Monkey is gluten free, which is cool (my neighbor has a gluten allergy and it appears to suck).

Speaking of neighbors, did I tell you that we had a huge bonfire last weekend and burned 6 Christmas trees and drank too much? Well, we did. See:


While we were standing around the fire my gluten-less neighbor, a carpenter by trade (the profession not the musical group), turned to me and said, "this should be easy to write about," to which I replied, "you know what else is easy? remodeling a fucking kitchen," which is not something I know for a fact, but it can't be any harder than writing this damn post.

Where was I?

Oh right, the warehouse event. Stacey from Because I Must Blog was kind enough to set up an event with Lance, the owner of Clowns Unlimited and Games2U. Lance invited a group of us to his warehouse outside of Seattle where he and his staff had set up a handful of inflatable slides and mazes, some cool games, an assortment of cotton candy and THE TRAILER.

What is THE TRAILER? Well, as the name implies it is a trailer, and it is filled with pure awesome - the name may not have implied that part, hence my mentioning it. The trailer is all tricked out with cool lighting, comfortable seating for 12 adults (16-18 kids), and six 52" HD flat screen televisions (4 inside, 2 on the outside). Everyone can play the same game- if the game can handle it, or each TV can have its own game from over 51 choices on the latest XBOX, Wii and PlayStation systems. They can also play actual television if that's your thing.

It's as cool as you hope it is.


The trailer will come to you. Yes, you. A very knowledgeable game coach is included. I'm thinking about getting the neighbors to chip in so we can rent it one of these weekends- after we run out of Christmas trees.

In closing, I've been doing stuff. And now it is the weekend. I hope you have a good one.


Behind the curtain:
Compensation: No
Products Received: 3 small bottles of Pom juice, 3 small bags of Funky Monkey

When I decided to do the Year of Resolutions thing, I had no idea what was coming my way. Clearly. Had I, I never would have ventured forth with the project, no matter how brilliant an idea it was for me.

I just figured that I’m better with bite-sized chunks, rather than full-blown permanent resolutions. One resolution, 30 days, no biggie. And at the end of each month, to quantitatively know if it’s been a success or not – or even a relative success (because I’m far from perfect) – is pretty cool.

But almost three weeks in and I’m going slightly mad. I’m sleep-deprived, stressed to the gills, not to mention stir-crazy. It’s only been a week, folks. Mom broke her kneecap a week ago Monday and I’m already melting down. There’s a long road ahead still.

Yes, to be fair to myself (something I’m not very often), I have other birds and kettles of fish in the bush (or whatever). It’s not just caretaking Mom that’s stressing me out. Nevertheless, if I don’t find a rhythm soon and pace myself, I’m seriously going to be fucked. I mean, more fucked than I was twice the past week with my diabetes episodes.

I have snapped at some of my favorite people on Earth recently. I’ve said things I regret. I’ve made a record number of poor decisions and judgment calls the last week. I’ve even pulled passive-aggressive bullshit that would infuriate me from anyone else. I’m not slamming myself  here (mostly), I’m just stating facts. I’m not happy with myself since Mom’s accident. My emotions seem like exposed nerve endings, raw to the touch. I’ve come perilously close to bawling my eyes out. Sunday night, in fact, I had what can only be described as the “dry heaves” equivalent of crying.

Couldn’t make them come.

Here’s how messed in the head I am of late. Monday, I came *this* close to shutting it all down. Deleting EVERYTHING…Twitter, Facebook, my blog…all of it. So overwhelmed by my own assininity that I just figured it’d be easier to say “Fuck it all!” and never worry about social media again.

Fortunately, a leveler head was in mine *somewhere* and I realized that would be stupid. First off, out of all my years blogging, I’ve only seen one person successfully (meaning, permanently) shut down their blog. Everyone else is pretty much full of shit. They come crawling back, usually within a week. “Oops, my goof. I’m back. Please disregard that whole 2,000-word rant about how I’m disappearing forever and deleting everything FOREVER. I couldn’t stay away.”

And that’s the thing. I KNOW I can’t stay away for long. So I followed the advice I usually reserve for my idiot friends who are overwhelmed and ready to shoot their online identities in the face at point-blank range.

That advice? Don’t post. Don’t tweet. Don’t do any of it. For now. Come back when you’re ready. Anything more drastic than that, and you’re gonna regret it.

I have enough regrets already, I don’t need any free refills, thanks.

On top of that, I’m actually (slowly but Shirley) finding a new blogging rhythm. I’ve blogged more this month than I have in a long time. And I think that’ s a good thing. For me, at least, and isn’t that what matters?

What I have done is create an anonymous blog that only *I* know about for the sorts of things that I can’t (or won’t) say here. Don’t ask me for the URL. I don’t care WHO you are, you’re not getting it. It’s for me, and me only.

Then there’s the YOR. I started it, I need to do my best to see it through. It’s daunting, but it’s far less daunting than telling myself at midnight as the big ball drops down in Times Square that I’ll never smoke a cigarette again. That’s the whole point behind my YOR concept. You can do almost *anything* for 30 days.

In order to really make the YOR effective for me, I need to blog about it. Not only does it help me keep a record of my progress (and setbacks) but it also keeps me accountable. My friends read this fucking thing (for some reason that often escapes me). I have a Prick Buddy, one of my favorite ladies on Earth, who swaps blood sugar readings with me via text and Tweets. That helps a lot. So much so that I’m going to try to find a way to have a Buddy for each of the 11 Resolutions to follow this year.

Here’s where I bring up the fact that I do a great ostrich impersonation. My primary method of coping throughout my life has been avoidance…pretending it’s not happening. That’s not healthy. I’ve dropped off the grid many times and I made a promise a while back to Hilly (one of many victims of my sudden and thorough disappearances) that I would NOT disappear again. And I may make a lot of mistakes, but I do try hard to stick by my promises. Not always possible, but I go by the motto: “Make very few promises, and bust your ass to keep the few you do make.”

So I’ll reiterate, if only for my own clarity and peace of mind (fragile as that may be at the moment). I won’t completely drop off the grid. That’s not to say I may not stop posting for a while, if necessary. Or that I won’t stay off Facebook and Twitter for a while at a time. But I won’t totally ignore all of my email (permanently) or phone calls. And I’ll make an effort to stay in touch with my friends to let them KNOW I’m taking a social media breather. For now, though, you’re stuck with me.

I have spent relatively little time on Twitter of late, less than usual. That’s not likely to change soon. I’m still myopic (perhaps more so than when I wrote that post). Mostly, I send out Tweets and only respond to those who address me first. I don’t ever sit in front of Tweetdeck for 45 minutes and spend time interacting, really…reading other people’s Tweets. Not feeling Twitter that way, and I don’t feel guilty about it, either. Twitter is a tool and I’ll use the tool however I want. Heh, I said “tool.” Twice. Well, three times now, actually.

My friends know how to reach me, anyway. You’ve got my number. I sure as hell hope you’re not waiting for ME to call. I’m a little swamped, in case you  haven’t noticed.

Today is January 20th. I have 11 days to figure out what February’s resolution is going to be. Open to suggestions. I have one in mind that seems very fitting to follow up this month’s, but with 12 resolutions in 12 months, I need all the help I can get.

Last night, I was given the chance to get out of the house for a while, and I took it. My TNT girls came over for Tuesday night dinner and they kept Mom company, while my best bud and I went to go see “Youth in Revolt.” It was truly what I needed, a respite from…well, everything.

Lots of laughs (till we were both crying). And as an aside, how come I can be so fucking funny OFF my blog but can’t ever seem to bring it here any more? Dunno. But we ate in the mall food court so we could mock people watch. Then we saw a really good movie.

“Youth in Revolt” has been one of my all-time favorite novels for over 15 years now. I picked it up at a Barnes & Noble and laughed out loud on page 1. Within 120 seconds, I owned it. And there were a LOT more laughs after that. Funny as shit, and very smart comedy, too. I’ve bought that book at least a dozen times over the years, only to loan it out to friends and never see it again. Usually, because THEY loan it out to THEIR friends…it’s a vicious cycle. And I don’t care because it’s THAT good.

The concessions stand guy was talking about “Revolt” last night, saying that the movie seems to have a “cult following.” I didn’t even snicker at what a cult following in Sebring might look like. I just said, “There *is* a cult following, because it’s one of the funniest books I’ve ever read.”

“Really?”

My bud agreed, because I’m the one responsible for getting HER to read it and subsequently chomping at the bit to see the film.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s like Ferris Bueller on steroids.” I was pretty proud of that summation because it’s apt and rolls off the tongue well. At any rate, I think I have 3 more converts to the books of C.D. Payne. Yes, people, there are SIX books in the Twisp series and they’re all good.

The movie? Fantastic. I’ve waited over a decade for this flick and I’m happy to say they do the first book justice. Sure, there’s a lot missing, but they did a really good job condensing it down into a 90-minute flick (not to mention modernizing a book that is nearly 20 years old). I’m impressed with screenwriter Gustin Nash, who is also responsible for the sublime “Charlie Bartlett” a couple of years ago.

The casting was superb. Michael Cera nails the part. Steve Buscemi? Ray Liotta? Fred Willard on shrooms? Rockin’.

If you haven’t yet met Nick Twisp, the 14-year-old protagonist of “Youth in Revolt,” I highly recommend you get to a bookstore or library and pick up a copy. It used to be an obscure thing to find, but with a movie out, it’s probably a lot easier to get a hold of. I snickered at “Confederacy of Dunces,” but SNORTED with “Revolt.” Many times over.

Laugh out loud expel liquid through your nose funny, people.

On top of the movie and the company, I had a really amazing texting session with a very dear one and that helped to calm me, too. Temporarily. Which I’ll take.

Yes, I know this is a long post, but seriously…can you really be surprised? You’re at MY blog, after all. Maybe it’ll help you to know that this was originally supposed to be two posts. Nah, probably not.

Gonna wrap up with the doctor updates. This morning, I went in for blood (and pee) tests. First step in correcting my medications. It occurred to me, while peeing in a little cup and trying to keep my guggenheimer from actually dipping into my own urine, that I have NO idea how WOMEN do that shit. And I don’t want to know, either. I’m just going to assume it gets done somehow, probably by magic Urine Elves or something.

I go back Friday morning for my follow-up, after my blood test results are in. We’ll make adjustments from there. For now, I’m supposed to test my sugar FOUR times a day. Ugh. Before each of my three meals (oh yeah, I’m suppose to eat three times a day), and then two hours after dinner. And I’m off long-acting insulin and one of my diabetes pills till then, too. Which is good, because I’ve already been doing that. Something about crashing twice in a week has made me pretty skittish about taking insulin before bedtime.

Odd part about that is – much as I fantasize about blinking out of existence with nary a POPping sound – I actually fear NOT waking up. I can’t say I’m happy to be alive, but I CAN say I’d rather not be dead. I suppose that’s something.

I also have the Matrix Therapist Friday afternoon, first time in over a month, I think.

AND Friday morning is Mom’s surgery for her kneecap. Lots of friends to sit with me in the waiting room, even stay while I go to my own doctor appointment. Much as I’d rather be at the hospital the whole time, I’ve got to get MY proverbial house in order so I can take care of Mom. So I’ll keep my appointments.

Yeah, another (of many) lessons I’m learning lately: ask for help and don’t hesitate to use it when offered. That’s a biggie for me. I’m not a guy who easily admits he needs a hug, let alone help.

I’m still hurting. A lot. But it’s not quite as bad today as it was early yesterday morning when I started writing this diatribe.

Thanks to all of you for your texts, Tweets, Facebook love, emails, and phone calls. I may not be the speediest to respond, but I do see it all and appreciate it.

Now I need a nap. Mom is sleeping and I should take advantage of it.

a

I tend to float and dance around the things that I must do. Deadlines are stones in my pockets, paperwork is an anchor around my neck and writing because I need to write is a pair of cement shoes weighing me forever downward.

And yet, writing because I need to write pays the bills. Deadlines are, obviously, necessary and important. Editing without paperwork is like breathing without air. I am living my dream and I lay awake at night.

Perhaps the grass is always greener. Perhaps I am never satisfied. Perhaps these are the glory days and someday I will remember them fondly.

I'm inclined to embrace the latter.

Still, I have never been further from the literary accomplishments for which I strive, and therein lies the rub. Such things require a firm stance and not the spin and dip of a drive-by tango. My lips have grown bloody from a mouthful of roses. Whiskey stings and lingers longer.

I need to spend less time writing because I need to and more time writing out of want. I need to want. It requires a tether and some discipline and a great deal of sacrifice.

It requires me to stay afloat even as I drop stone upon stone against the lining of my pocket.

It requires me to keep dreaming and to look forever upward. One breath at a time.

I write to share my wisdom arising from my life experience. My words are like the rain, and you are like the soil, and when my nourishment satisfies your thirst for knowledge, you grow tall, like the grass and the flowers and the mightiest of trees. I write to educate you, to guide you to greatness. Once you were lowly, but after reading my words, you will be flying with the eagles in the clouds!

I write to lie, to make up shit, to come up with ridiculous statements like the first paragraph because I can imagine some asshole really writing that nonsense, and it makes me laugh.

I have no idea why I write. I’ve always written.

I write to clarify things in my own head.

I write to remember things.

I write to express love without having to say it out loud.

I write to imagine myself as other people, like an actor.

I write to be the real me, because, in real life, I am TOO much of an actor.

I write to impress girls so they will fall in love with him.

I write because writing is powerful, and I don’t own a gun.

I write just to amuse one person, who I know will get the joke.

I write because I don’t have a choice.

I write because good writers turn me on more than naked Playboy bunnies, and writing well is the only way I know to get them to talk to me.

I write to waste time.

I write to hide.

I write to be passive/aggressive in a cowardly way, and then feel guilty about it.

I write to be political, but not often enough.

I write to be truthful to others, because I rarely get a chance to be truthful in my daily life.

I write to force myself to stop lying… to myself.

I write because I’m not very good at football.

I write because when I read books, I’m always saying, “I can do better than that!”

I write because you can’t masturbate in Starbucks, but they do allow you to bring your laptop, so it gives me something to do while drinking coffee.

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2010 sounds like something different, doesn't it? It's not going to be the same – it will be a year of discoveries and happiness and riches and optimism. And flying cars and robots who shoot lasers and artificial intelligence systems that try to take over the world.

I may write up my own personal resolutions at some point, but for now, here are my Avitable.com Blog Resolutions for 2010. I resolve to:

1. Continue to write what I think and call people out who deserve to be called out.
2. Find humor in the darkest, drippiest corners of the universe.
3. Encourage comments and dialogue to foster this sense of community that I love so much.
4. Step out of my comfort zone and write about personal issues from time to time.
5. Balls, balls, balls, ninjas, and more balls.
6. Share my life with my closest friends, casual acquaintances, and perfect strangers, without holding back.
7. Draw more Avitable cartoons.

What is your blog resolution?