I’m trying to get into a rhythm of writing again, or at least blogging again. How long this will last is anyone’s guess. I’m setting the over/under at December 17th. But I figure back in the days of MySpace I used to write down my random thoughts just as an excuse to write, so when I don’t have anything else worthwhile or well thought out to get off my chest, I’ll fall back on that.
Today is one of those days I have nothing worthwhile or well thought out to get off my chest.
Tomorrow sometime I have a piece dropping on the Misfit Politics about how Malcolm X has some great advice for the Republican Party, mainly the quote they used at the beginning of “Cult of Personality.” Yes, THAT Malcolm X.
Lately I’ve been enjoying reading what my political friends have written that have absolutely nothing to do with politics (especially with the exception of Matt Walsh most political writing on the right has gotten boring and predictable). There was one line from a friends post recently that stuck with me for some odd reason: “Figuring out how someone wants to be cared for and how they communicate is a challenge.”
I’ve learned something about myself this weekend…I’m a terrible person to take with you to pick out stuff for a new bathroom. My response whenever my opinion is call on is either “sure” or “ok.”
I’ve developed a theory about the mystery Doctor in “Doctor Who: Day of the Doctor.” 11 says in the trailer that, out of his many faces and many lives, there is one that he’s tried to forget. I think the mystery one is the Doctor from the Time War who killed everyone, including his own people.
Living in a city of sleepless people who all know the limits and won’t go too far outside the lines, cause they’re’ out of their minds. I wanna get out and build my own home on a street where reality is not much different from dreams I’ve had. A dream is all I have…
And speaking of Doctor Who…