It finally happened. Honea Express has moved to greener pastures, or possibly just out to pasture -- you make the call.

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Please pardon the dust and update your feed readers accordingly. Thank you - Whit

Friday, November 18, 2005

It's after midnight. I'm sitting here in my pajamas eating Reese's and drinking a beer, wishing it was two, or possibly a glass of whiskey. I'm listening to Sigur Ròs and you should too. Nothing like haunting Icelandic alt/(insert other label) music to help you unwind and let the mind wander to those things you have been putting off, like voting and curing cancer.
My mind wandered to this whole blogging thing. What the hell is this anyway? Creative- it's an outlet. Artistic- perhaps to the actual blogger. Egotistical- very. Evidence- potential.
It is only a matter of time before a blog is introduced as evidence in a criminal case. I'm actually surprised it hasn't been yet. I can just see it, someday someone will start killing idiots and somebody will remember that I hated them, and then BAM, I'm in the slammer. I've got a wife and soon to be two kids. I can't go to jail. I'm pretty and still have a decent amount of hair. I wouldn't last two minutes.
Still, the mind wanders and my beer is empty. The peanut butter cups, I realized after a few bites, were inside out, not unlike my pajamas; and this music, it is echoing inside me, influencing and leading me, like some pied piper rounding up tangents and fragments of clouded thought.
Excuse me, it is pushing me towards the kitchen, and luckily that's where the beer is.