When I was around sixteen years old my older brother found out I occasionally smoked cigarettes. We would often smoke one or a cigar while playing golf because we got a small buzz, it was fun, and it felt cool.
My brother proceeded to give me one of my more memorable Christmas presents, a carton of smokes, which I immediately returned minus one square. I think I even remember saying, “gee… thanks bro, but I’ll never smoke all these in my entire life!” Ah the naivety of youth.
When I went to Korea in the year 2000, I was still an occasional smoker and I found two brands in Korea called Time and This that I loved!
Yesterday guess what I saw in our local H Mart?
I don’t smoke cigs much these days, only in Vegas and at work sometimes, but I had to buy this pack when I saw it!
I’ve had many people I’ve called friend in my past. I have many close friends in my life. I don’t talk to many of them often and I don’t visit home that much.
I’ve run from demons in my past, the kind that chase you in your dreams. They walk among you in the day and I can see them even today. Those sights I see are home to me and a home I’ll never have.
Home is where you are, or at least that’s what they say. Home to me, home is here in Colorado for now.
You shouldn’t ever feel like you owe someone something in friendship. If you borrow money it is a different story, but that’s why you try not to allow money to ever be a factor in friendship. Don’t ever loan someone money unless you truly want to see how strong your friendship is when that dirty rotten thieving bastard doesn’t pay you back that money you specifically counted out for him from the stack of cash you went to the bank in the freezing cold to get for him… err.
Well I guess it is that time again. I’m going to renew the site one more time and see where we go from there.
I just can’t bring myself to let https://aopinionatedman.com/ go and it become some online pine cone store. For the guy in the back that just thought… ‘what the fuck is an online pine cone store???’ Man… you just ain’t been living.
A blog is not a single post. A single post can get you famous of course… fame is such a loose term these days, but it can definitely accomplish that for normally the wrong reasons. A true blog paints a whole picture of what a blogger is or is becoming, or it should if a blogger is honest. Most bloggers aren’t.
I find it to be fun to own a website, in general, and call it your own. That’s what this blog is. Most people don’t think that is a big deal and that’s cool, they can have their opinion. Over there. The reason I still putter along over here is because a website never dies.
It only becomes an online pine cone store if you don’t pay the $150 to reup.
I think I’ve become scared of everything I will be. Everything inside of me, all that’s left are dreams. How do you get these things to leave I’ll think.
I know how. I know how.
Here’s a way. We’ll try this way. A drink or two. Do you smoke they say.
We do what we have to to stop it from happening. It’s an it. My kid asked me the other day why they made that movie about the clown the name ‘It.’ I didn’t have an answer.
What’s more scary than ‘it?’ It makes you cry, you don’t know why. Even wine doesn’t bring a smile to these eyes. I’ll drink a little. I’ll drink a bit. We’ll see if we can drown this it out. It never works.
I’ve found an answer, a solution that works for me. It blocks the dreams and they wait for me outside the line of my bedroom shrine. I feel them creep as my toes cross from the safety I’ve made here. But it’s ok. I’ll be ok. Bring on those dreams. Who needs rest.