SHIT. SHIFT. STEAMY

Did one. Might as well do two. Nothing to do. Nothing to lose. Nothing to gain. Then what is it? Nothing to nothing? What is in between lose and gain? Non-movement of zero-zilch-natta-nothing-ness? Yes, that's what. What's what? This. What I'm doing now. I'm moving my fingers across time and cyber space for no apparent reason but to fill my empty time and the net with more junk from the bottom of the river. Who's more worthy of coveted rental space - in space? Me or Perez? Or Me or Shaq? Me or Harvey? Or me or You? Probably Shaq. No, probably somebody nobody knows, but really, it's someone everyone knows. Those people are the biggest celebri-nobodies these days. Kate and Jon. Who? Jon and Kate plus who? 8. Oh, yeah of course. Them. The featured exhibit at your neighbourhood convenience/grocery checkouts - for the last year! Or so. Or more. I've never seen a picture of 8. Just the parents of 8. Lots of different pictures of the parents who are never pictured with their 8. But he is with his new girlfriend. And her with a new look. And me with my non-life. Yes, this is nothing. But, it sure is something that I know about this. Shit. Shift. Steamy. I also know that nothingness can come in many different and unseen forms - even that of somethingness, which may be the worst kind of empty void black thing because it seems alive, occupied with something - when in fact, it's over flowing with sweet f a. Nothing disguised as a stinkier something. It's hard to explain this particular mode of life shit, but you know when you're covered in it. 'Cause it smells and its hard to get out of, especially on a hot day. Outside. In the sun. Steamy.