My insides are a crowded interstate going east towards narrow states.

Wow hey, let's do something awesome like write a script to a love story. Okay, sound good?

Yeah, sounds good.

So it'll be a great script. It'll be a witty script filled with short sentences. I wonder what the montage will look like a sweeping long shot, maybe? I want a song from the 60s with a bluesy rift to play super loud and the main character will be smoking an unfiltered cigarette. He'll be holding it like a dart and press it into his lips like a pill coated in bitter yuck.

Hey yeah, that sounds like a great opening to a movie. My goal is to have a theater filled with teenagers getting BJs to this shit. Everyone will want sex or a have a sloppy midsection 10 minutes into the film.

**

I need to start drinking 10 glasses of water a day again. It made me feel better, no matter what I was doing. 

So, holy shit, this Lakers/Celtics game is great. If you're not watching it, I don't think you're prioritizing your life very well. Marv Albert just referred to a player as "chippy." That description is a piece of crap.

Pitchers and catchers report to spring training in about 10 days, and that gets me so pumped up. Baseball season, yes.

**

I want the motor that's in the room directly below me to grow legs. I want its insides to rumble after fresh lubrication, after a bottle of Lucas is poured onto triangular lobes. On their metallic insides, a little face smiles and wants to spin and churn power.

I'm waiting for... maybe two weekends after this next one. The motor is going to be alive. Power is going to shift like to plates of naked earth moving below your feet, pushing once tall mountains into a pile of  iron and crunch. 

When this Jetta is finished, I might believe in God. And by that, I mean myself. I created something, I might get the same feeling a parent gets watching their kid smash a wet tennis ball off a tee over the chain link fence that runs along the back of a subdivision.

**

Fuck yes, the arena music in the Lakers/Celtics game is "Machine Head" by Bush. That song was the shit in the fifth grade. That crazy person driving super fast on the Ducatti motorcycle. Bustin' wheelies and endos on chumps because nobody's stopping me.

I want this blog post to keep going on for a lot longer. Although, I have little else to say. I'm trying to find more places around Louisville that have poetry readings. Fuck open mic nights, I want an actual reading. 

Right now, I want to feel like this: