Max: The Unemployed Insomniac

I haven't felt like writing much lately. Why is that whenever I see a person that resembles an Arab I immediately think they are experts in 'conspiracy theories'? They always feel so god dang persecuted. They even come here to escape the madness from whence they come and still find it in them to take us to court. To them, the West is a gigantic field day. 'Look, these morons uphold a piece of paper. Let's milk it. Let them bleed for us. Cut their hands if they ask for protection and freedom in our homeland!' Sweet deal for them.

I think kids today are our future. And from what I can discern, it don't look too good. I was driving and came up to a road where some skanky 14 year-old girls were playing basketball equipped, if you can believe it, with a pink basketball and net. Anyway, one of the little bitches did not budge thus forcing me to go around her! Once upon a time I remember my friends and I MOVING HOCKEY NETS to let cars pass since they had the right of way. We understood that technically we weren't allowed to play on the street so we didn't ruffle any feathers. With today's kids they hold you with contempt and arrogance. I should have pasted my windshiled with that cocky little....insert any word here.

I went bowling at 3am. Fricken fucking fricken bowling. If only mother knew. Everyone looks like Shane MacGowan at this time of night in this type of establishment. Except for this fellow insomniac chick I met. There's something sexy in broads who have the confidence in hitting an alley at this time of night. So it wasn't a complete loss. We ended up in a local 24 hr. deli until 6am. While most normal, stable and sane working stiffs were getting ready to clog traffic, we were heading back to our respective places to try and sleep. Suckers. They have it backwards.

Lately I have been bumping intoguys I grew up with in my old neighbourhood. Don't know what it is but it doesn't matter who it is (we all had different groups) we instantly share a bond. There was something special about our old 'hood. French or English. It doesn't matter. Nor does it matter what you have accomplished. You could be a mobster, lawyer and doctor the three of you will remember the days you played baseball together. In my case, it's getting a little creepy. No sooner than I think of one of them, I either meet them or someone close to them soon after. It's happened four times thus far. What do they call that? ESPN or something? ESP, I know, fuck off. The best example of this new found freakiness was when I was walking around Paris with my cousin. I don't know why I was thinking about it but I was. I wondered how cool it would be to meet someone from the 'hood in the hustle and bustle of Paris. BANG! It happens. I'll leave it at that.

Hmmm, Robert Crumb or Sir Thomas Mallory? Decisions, decisions....