Category Archives: General Wankage

Just climbed out of the bath

Ahhh…ahhhhhhhhh hhh hhh hhh man, that feels good.

I mean, most mornings are the shower. That feels good, too, but not as much. Every now and then I just need to switch it up. The bath gets deep into those muscles and says “warm” and they echo back “ooh, yes please, more thank you”.

If someone could capture and bottle that feeling. When your whole body is sending peace messages of clean and warm and happy. Even the tired and abused feet seem pretty happy, for once.

Imagine how easy it would be to get through an eight-hour day, if you could get a once-an-hour recharge like that?

Stress? What’s that?

It does drain you, a little. Body wants to sit here and enjoy the warm for a little while longer, rather than fetching breakfast right now. Guess that could be a little counter-productivity.

Peaceeeeee. Sleep would be so easy, too.

No no bad dog. Breakfast, work, responsibility. Or no biscuit.

Oh, all right. Damn you conscience. You’ll pay for this.

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I should write something today

But Monday, not a good day for prompts. Daily Post is meh today. Hmm hmm hmm.

Nothing on the ‘to do’ list, project-wise. Maybe I won’t write anything at all, and just vegetate in front of the TV.

I should have some stuff “in the can” anyway. That’s what column writers do, so they can take a day or a week off. Bunch of canned articles, ready to be released on date X.

I’m not that prolific.

I mean, I’d feel bad to miss a day, but it really wouldn’t kill me.

Just not going to let the urge-to-vegetate wreck “the streak”.

Won’t miss a day for any reason that trivial. Vacation, anniversary, birthdays. Christmas and Thanksgiving (probably).

I’m just not organized enough to have column articles “on the spike”. Nor does my income depend on it.

This streak is doomed…heh.

But not today!

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Off to fairyland

Well, if fairyland was run by surly demons short on caffeine, I suppose.

Another bright and sunny (not) 4AM alarm. Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! Off the slay the jabberwock.

Or not.


I need a frowny-face graphic, so I can abbreviate these crack-of-dawn posts down to a single image. So no one has to read them!

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The Cup

The cup is filled with rich, creamy cocoa.

It’s my replacement for coffee, because I’ve never taken the time to acquire the taste. I’m not terribly fond of coffee even as a flavoring in other foods. Tea is all right, but not a beverage I would consciously seek out.

I’m kind of an outcast from Starbucks Society. The hip and trendy-yuppie macchiato mocha mucho magnifico world doesn’t have a spot for me in it. I don’t frappe or latte anything at all. The mysteries of cappuccino and espresso are forever denied to me. To me, they’re just sub-brands of the basic coffee flavor that I don’t particularly like; one that must be drowned and buried under a lot of cream and a ton of sugar to be consumable at all.

So why bother to fool around trying to find a sub-species that’s palatable? I just reach for the cocoa.

Don’t settle.

There was a similar experience with booze, entering my college years. People swoon over beer… I will never understand why. To me, it tastes like carbonated cow urine. Too much variety is available that is both alcoholic and tasty. No reason to muck around with the lesser experiences.

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A post searching for a title

Ok, so I’m a day late. Mea Culpa. Six tales, six words each, as prompted:


Go ahead, you might as well.


Fine literature critique only makes me.


One million years B.C., Raquel!


My dad might have. Raquel again.


Guess I forgot the profanity filter.


Haven’t found what I’m looking for.

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In response to Adam Ickes Six on the Sixth prompts.

It’s almost over

Tomorrow, early, the last sub-zero morning. Maybe for the year?

Next week, 40s, even 50s.

Yes please, waiter. I’ll have some of that. Can I get a double order?

Things are absolutely, finally, looking up. Spring hasn’t quite sprung, perhaps, but Winter is definitely showing signs of weakness.

So go outside today and get some sunshine. The winter lock-in is nearly over, and the cabin fever may begin lifting now.

Bring it on, momma nature.

Let it rain.

Rain. Not snow. NOT SNOW!!

That’s totally yay!

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Optimism is linked to raindrops and green leaves and tree sap.

Crap of Dawn

Here we are again, crawling out of bed to greet the frozen darkness outside. Freezing rain, too. What a way to build a terrific mood!

Ain’t winter over yet? Shooooo! Get OUT of here Winter, crawl back in your hole and disappear, already.

Previous posts made at 4am haven’t been terribly coherent or successful, so I don’t think I’ll really try.

Looking over the the old Daily Post prompt, clearly uninspiring. String of dud topics lately. Or maybe I’m just done with DP.

So I think I’ll just munch my breakfast and read. Exciting, huh?

Not really. But whatya want at 4AM, rubber biscuit?

Maybe I’ll be inspirational and inspired after work. But probably not, it’s just a soul-sucking black hole that inspires, mostly, a desire to make a prison break and run for your life.

Or maybe that’s the 4AM fatalism talking, again. Probably.

I’ve totally got to dream up a serial fiction to fill these blah mornings with.

Tune in tomorrow to see if the Green Hornet and Kato can escape Dr. Destruction’s Horrible Trap of Death!

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Well…bleah, just bleah.


Infection successfully fought off, though the antibiotics kind of wiped me out for a while.

New book successfully pushed out the door, just in time to go back on the crap-of-dawn shift.

So, yippee for 4AM wakeup calls.

If I get quiet for a couple of days, I’m still here. The daily prompt didn’t trip my trigger today, so you get this wonderful post, instead.

Anyway, it’s a problem that will get better.

Difficult to feel inspired when you can’t uncross your eyes, heh.

Rain check on today.

RecDave Seal


Irrelevant non-conclusions

For the next few days, I need to get out of bed and head off to work during the StupidEarly™ hours of the chilly, sub-zero mornings.

Which means before the daily post people issue me a prompt. Couple of hours after I leave today.

So I’m on my own. Winging it. Sans idea, drowning in the well of my own despair. “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”

The despair this morning arises from a lot of lack of sleep (see above), and a very sore back (partially responsible for the lack of sleep).

I worry about how many productive working years I have left. The old bod is just breaking down too quickly.

“Lose weight”, says my wife. Easy-peasy, I’ll just hack off an arm. I got a spare!

“Get more excercise,” says my back. Everyone’s just full of helpful advice.

“Get out of the damn computer chair, its been killing you slowly for years,” says my brain.

“Go work out, pump you up. Pick things up and put them down,” says Brad. Er, really, no, no thanks.

Maybe I should get a laptop and do my writing in bed? Sure, that will help :eyeroll:

But I don’t have any alternative, at least not for writing. It’s just not a good cardio sport.

At war with myself. The things I love doing most are pretty sedentary activities. Sedentary is killing me. So is age.

Exercise consists of the things I do at work. Mostly lifting and carrying and walking walking walking walking walking walking. How’s that working out for us again, back muscles?

So…yeah. Rock and a hard place. A million and one excuses not to change anything.

Dr. Cobo? Wanna tell ’em what’ll happen then?  :: sigh ::

Getting old just sucks, I friggin hate it.

RecDave Seal

Whine whine bitch moan complain.

Backup singers, that’s your cue!