My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

My 1992 GMC graffiti magnet

I’m not against the youth, but I’m no longer with them. Perhaps sitting “in the buck” as my housemate just said, as I blog, is an attempt to reach back to those carefree nude days. I hope it’s not awkward for you to find me blogging at 2:30 a.m. without so much on as lint between my toes. My roommate was nonplussed. Because this is an organic household. If only you could smell it. The trash can by the computer smells like a compost bin.

Blogging or jogging, doesn’t matter. Done naked, it feels comfortable. If not “young”, then carefree. Where is this all going? Some idiot children tagged my truck pretty good. Would this happen in a nudist colony? I think not. There is something about competition that clothing breeds that also leads to tagging. The inadequate creatures of “FN”, a crew of taggers, need to feel they’ve gotten over on someone. They want to compete because so often they’ve lost. So they compete against a sleeping truck driver. An inanimate building. A defenseless fence. A few squad cars are the referees.

I’m staying up late tonite, without any clothes on, and watching my truck from the window. If I see them coming, I’m waving my dong.