Release the eelhead!

When you dream, do you dream of flying? I don't. Haven't for years. Used to when I was younger. Even though I was scared of heights, I loved dreaming that I could fly. It afforded me a way to be free, leave my body, and explore the world from a perspective that I couldn't do mortally at the time. So now, if I want to fly, I can hop in a plane and fly away, looking out the window and taking in the view. I am good at knowing where I am from the sky and seeing the terrain. As a kid, I loved maps and used to draw them freehand from memory all the time. So when flying now. I will go to and from wherever I have an excellent general direction of where I am over the continental United States. It's incredible, and I enjoy it. My dreams when I was younger also consisted of me battling in armor on a horse. Crazy as it sounds, this is one dream I have had throughout my life. When I was sick with a fever, I would have this dream, and it was so vivid that I could smell the air, t...

OK, so me not being a plumber (ever!!!) I installed my disposal unit myself. It was a little bit of a pain in the ass, but I got it all in. Hooked it all up and connected the dishwasher. Run water, and it all looks lovely. I was feeling good. Well after several days just for giggles I look under the sink, well a pool of water. I was like, oh shit, what did I fuck up. Well, I saw it was the dishwasher hose, and I readjusted it and then, to make sure, reset the disposal altogether. I Ran water, all was good, and I felt like a boss. Fast-forward to last Friday. I was heading out for a quick trip and needed to run my dishes. So I ran a load on the dishwasher and didn't think anything about it. It ran and ended, and all was well, and I headed out. Ok, so now it's Sunday night, and it's midnight into Monday, and I need to sleep, and I get home from my travels, and the house smells like ass. Well, the first thing I did was check the garbage; not that smell, but I took it out ...

I am from a far place than where I currently reside. I have posted many times on Facebook how I feel about the desert and home. I miss the green mountains and valleys, the grass and wildlife. For many years, I have looked to be back home amongst my family and friends. I moved here almost 10 years ago; I have met people here and there. Some I thought would be great friends, brother-like, for what I share with my best friends back home. I have only a handful of close friends back home, those of which I call brothers. They have had my back for everything and anything growing up. I even have one that I ran into burning buildings with and even did silly ass shit with. That burning building shit turned into several brothers I'd done silly ass shit with. Here, I haven't found, but perhaps two. I might be getting off track from what I was getting at, but when has that stopped me. I'm an asshole, I want to trust people in my circle or extended circle, but I seem to always get ...

This one time, I was sitting about in my car—I wasn't actually driving, just sitting in it in the garage. I was pretending that I was popping wheelies, trying to impress the girls on my sweet golden Schwinn with red tassel streamers and an old milk crate I attached to give my stuffed Pink Panther plushy a ride. Man, those girls were all over me. They wanted some of this milkshake because I was bringing it. I'd swoop around on the street, feeling the wind in my hair and the sound of the chain going over the sprockets. The wind was a cool autumn wind, the kind that smells of crisp, clean air and makes your lungs feel good. I would pull up on those handlebars, balance myself and the bike into the perfect wheelie, and feel the streamers smacking my wrists. It was super badassery. I was like a legend on that bike, known throughout Nassau and parts of Suffolk counties. When I was a kid, Long Island felt small. I used to ride my bicycle all over parts of L.I. and do it all in a da...