Another Shit. Piss. Balls.
Every time that I seem to have some semblance of my shit being together or getting together, someone or something decides to throw a giant fucking monkey wrench at my nuts.
It can’t be karma. I’d like to think of myself as a generally good person. So what cosmic forces are conspiring against me, I haven’t the foggiest idea. I just know that we need to have a talk and they need to stop messing with my affairs. I told the Universe that I existed and the Universe told me, “So?” So, Universe, knock it off. Give a guy a chance.
All for now. Skål.
Ezra
