A title is beyond me. How about 'inane shite'.

There's a pair of bald eagles nesting in the bay just down from my house. Two friends spent the weekend. We did mushrooms one afternoon and they went for a walk, where they saw the eagles dive-bombing a young duck, eventually tiring it enough so they could snag it up. I had stayed at home because when I went into the back yard the trees were fucking having a riot. Safer indoors.

The Japanese maple in the front yard is a rich ruby-red, the like of which I have never seen. God that fucking tree makes me happy. Canada in the autumn? Ablaze I tell you, ablaze with colour.

And now to technology: You peeped the new Lexus? The fucking thing will parallel park for you! I kid you the fuck not! The future is now! Keep your eye on bio-tech. Shit is wrong.

I had a dream the other night in which my mother's boyfriend, who I had to live with for years and hated intensely, was killing a baby seal by swinging it against a wall. What the fuck is our subconscious mind at? Fucking cheeky weird fucker. The twat is accountable to noone and should be reined in this instant. Book 'im Danno.

You don't know what my favourite time of day is, do you? I will fucking tell you. It is dusk. The gloaming. The house all quiet, apart from the sound of me throwing booze down my throat and sucking deeply on a spliff. And gently exclaiming "bollocks" and "fuck" every few minutes cuz I'm battered and don't know what the fuck I'm doing. What?

Did you see that Kenyan marathon winner who slipped under the winning tape and cracked his dome on the floor? What a fucking cunt!

Sirrah!

"Proud? PROUD. Proud". Rip Torn.

Everybody must get stoned

Yeah so anyways if you've ever received a large inheritance after the death of a loved one you know how fucking bittersweet it is. Yeah you can throw down mad cheddar on the big ass LCD TV, the xbox 360, furniture etc. You can go into the grocery store and just buy up all that shit. You can live for a few years not having to think about cash at all. It's all fresher than what's in a ziplock. But all shadowed of course by the absence of the departed. In death she supports me. Turn the clock back, take back this money and all this fucking stuff, and be in your kitchen pouring me a glass of red and talking drunken Irish shit. Jesus Christ grief can just fuck off.

This blog is exactly one year old in five days. A year?! Fuck me will someone turn off the fast-forward?

Here's something that will brighten your day - geoduck farming. Hold that thought.

As part of my sociological curiosity I've been watching N.American cable TV, eating Cheetos and caning beers while shouting "Fuck all y'all" at regular intervals to noone in particular. I bought a recliner by the way, which I can state with absolute confidence is the best chair in the world. Feet up, literally enfolded in the softness, ocean and mountains out the window to the left, 360 loaded up with Saints Row, big spliff, come on.

I haven't shaved in three months! Call the cops!

My bank balance is so weird. Never in my life have I had savings, or earnt any significant amounts. Now I see commercials for things and I'm like 'fuck me I could buy that'. It's all abstract though since I'm about as materialistic as a sadhu. And about as stoned.

What in fuck can I harp on about now. I know. Why is Jameson's my favourite whiskey and yet the most adept at transforming me into the most argumentative cocksucker that ever drew breath? (After a few shots) ....

You: I had a really busy day at work today.
Me: No you fucking well did not.
You: Pardon?
Me: Did you fuck!
You: What the fuck are you talking about?
Me: Busy my arse.
You: It was well hectic I'm telling you.
Me: You are fucking wrong.

Fucking hell I just had three cups of a fresh ground coffee called 'Kick Ass', the last one of which I 'enhanced' with a few gulps of said whiskey. As a consequence I feel I must run around the back yard roaring at the sky.

Not, that is, until I improve your life with this: Seahorses. Seahorses fucking rule.

Sirrah!

"Fuck the Panopticon". Me.