Saturday Eve

I'm sitting here listening to Okie From Muskogee, drinking ginger tea. Do I even belong on this planet? Who allowed me to be a Dad? Do I have to imagine myself clothes linning EVERYONE that I see when I'm in "Lowes"? I can't stop pretending to smoke, and pointing my fake cigarette at an imaginary foe, and yelling at him with Joe Pecci's voice. I broke my banjo strap today. My sister's dog Joshua is made out of concrete. Watched a bluejay enjoying the sunrise this morning while I enjoyed a cup of coffee on my front steps. Trying to find a foo dog image for my next tattoo. Was the death of Johnny Cash the final nail in the coffin for America?