Some elderly say it is easy to feel hot with sweety and salty food together. Some bubbles in the mouth. Who cares. On the day of happiness, all stay together. Even it is hot and with bubbles. It is nothing.

How can you use my intestines as a gift?

This will be of fine service for you, you bag of the scum. I am sure you will not mind that I remove your manhoods and leave them out on the dessert flour for your aunts to eat.

Missed my figure drawing group last night. A bit under the weather, med-wise. This new triglyceride medication has evidently transmuted into a red-hot ball of lead under my sternum. Zantac? Ha! It laughs at Zantac. I can feel the Zantac vaporizing as it approaches le petit sol. Nothing gets by the demon ball. Needless to say, I'm not sleeping well. Thank God I can sleep during the day while pretending to gaze intently at my computer screen. The ability to sleep with your eyes open is a true gift in this world of meetings, Starbucks, Chesapeake & Virginia Beach, and people in suits. It's like we're a nation of Manchurian candidates who are being ordered not to kill but to consume. I guess we're all tainted to a degree by this mass-consumption model we're living under, but the most interesting people seem to be the ones who are participating to the smallest degree possible. Or who have been knocked off the hamster wheel entirely. How'd I get over here? I was talking about the musket ball in my chest. Maybe that med contributes to adult ADD too. If I hadn't gone to that damn doctor, I wouldn't have known about triglycerides, and none of this other stuff would have happened. See how a bad decision can just snowball on you?

Things don't look straight to me. Either my glasses are crooked or my head's crooked. Or my ears are at different heights. Well, that could be a by-product of a crooked head. I'm not sure what you do about it. I'm not taking any more meds, I'll tell you that. Even if they had a crooked head med. Maybe I could have one shoe with an extra thick sole. But that wouldn't help when I was sitting down. Maybe a single-cheek butt prosthesis. Maybe that would attract women when I walked down the street. Or else muggers! who thought I had a fat wallet. Or what if it attracted a woman mugger? Boy, would that set up some ambivalent feelings...flirt or flee?

I think it's time to share some of the wisdom I've gleaned over the last 89 years of being a drawer. I'm always gleaning stuff, but wisdom is one of the few things I glean that you'd have any interest in. Let's face it, I'm a gleaner. And gleaning is hard work. But I'm going to stay the course. I'm not going to cut and run just because gleaning isn't fashionable among the Hollywood crowd or the Democrat Party. Speaking of being a drawer, though, last year I drew a pair of socks and put them on my blog. If I had thought of it at the time, I could have called myself a Sock Drawer. But it's way too late now for that to have any impact at all. Story of my life. Well, not the whole story. Just a little part of the story. There's a whole bunch of stuff about food and laughing and crying and shit too. But that's neither here nor there.