T/his new hobby — oh boy! — what'ya make of it. Can it sustain my interest? my fascination, my everything so much so that I forget about wanting to be dead? They say we're in season five () of Heather Wade Radio. Some may claim longer, others fewer. I know I called in and when I did I spoke about the fireball, which means it must've been anywhere between late 2015 to 2017. I guess we can narrow that down to 2015-2016 becuase, after all, how long does one keep in memory that life changing occurance of seeing a genuine SOMETHING in the sky just wiz by across the sky; but wait! Not just any sky. No sir. I may life in the suburbs, but I have about the same amount of sky that urban lifers have and let me tell you. That, my friend, is proportional to 10% of the country living rancher's sky. There's a two story building to my left. There's my house to the right. These obstructions allow me only to see shit directly above my head, practically. There's no horizon.
Do you want to know about my cityscape horize? There's so much light radiating from the southern horizon, the only real horizon there is only because it spans… maybe a good 10 miles; whereas, the horizon in the east consist of a hilly residential acreage, about a distance of .5 miles.
I'm taking a break tonight. I can catch up over the weekend, thenk you very much. Apparently, I think I know a friend trying to get into the businezz.. Her backstory is: for another entry, but suffice it to say, her and I, if in fact I know what I'm talking about, her and I fucked like we were already married. Make no mistake. It was ANGER sex. That's all it was for me. If she went and lied about her own feelings, then we have a situation. And like my bff/soulmate/theformermanhattanmadam would say "Nooooooo." and "Come here. You need a hug."