i hardly ever have anything to say to you. one day i will have something to say to you but today i have nothing.

walked outside to check out the strawberries and saw that the aliens have carved out another maze in my purple haze field. crazy rascals.

oh wait, it was paris hilton and lionel richie’s daughter.

i still have nothing to say. i didnt ride the bus today. i got a ride from rosalita who was going my way. i didnt have anything to say to her either. we rode in silence and listened to howard stern berating his editor for dating a 20 yr old intern.

howard: how old are you?

gange: 34.

howard: why are you dating a teenager?

gange: shes not a teenager shes twenty.

bababooey: she just turned twenty, howard.

howard: shes barely even developed, what are you doing man?

bababooey: oh, shes developed.

everyone laughs.

rosalita turns up the radio and shoots me a dirty look.

rosalita is 28.

im older than 34.

im 109, turning 110 in a few months.

rosalita wants me as her man and i dont want to be her man and i dont want to be the man of any teenagers neither but she wouldnt believe me if i told her that because some things you cant convince anyone of.

plus i got nothing to say to her.

stale silence.

the worst sort of silence.

the kind you get from two people who have ripped off each others clothes on several occasions in drunken sinfests and now arent really sure they even know each other let alone like each other.

and now are stuck in rush hour traffic.

listening to sit n sleep commercials.

azarok + the king of all bloggers + a review of the neil young rock opera