Well, onto the boat for my mother’s birthday. It’s been thirty years since I was on a cruise ship, and unlike when I was teenager, there will be less drunken idiots fucking around and falling over than before. Of course, there’s still hundreds of middle agers that don’t realize that and getting pissed up anyway.

At least there’s a nice steak dinner at the end of it.

Or would be, if this boat wasn’t rocking so much. I don’t remember the disorientation of sea legs from when I was seventeen. I do remember a friend of mine being terribly ill and asking me incredulously, “You don’t feel that?” to which I replied, honestly, “feel what?”

I thought he was being a pussy (which is a teenage euphemism for anyone suffering who is different than you and is a terribly inappropriate word to use, as anyone with half a brain knows a vagina is both tough as hell and sensitive as shit, which is a wonderful metaphor for something, probably).

Anyway, my head feels the pitch and roll now and so, Adam, sorry, dude. I thought you were being weak; turns out, I was just lucky enough not to suffer the same fate.

Until now.

Target: 400 words
Written: 374 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: The Power Of Now, Eckhart Tolle
Comics: Nailbiter 5-8
Music: Just A Friend, Biz Markie (I still know every single word - to this day, this cannot come over speakers without me belting out the chorus)