“Tartar Sauce,”

I thought about writing to you all night!  Today is Wednesday, April, the sixth.  Like any other Wednesday, I am scheduled to hit the gym this morning.  I may have double-booked myself also having rock climbing scheduled for tonight as well.

More importantly, I must have pulled a muscle in my abdomen, or something this past Saturday.  It’s grueling.  Taking a deep breath even hurts.  “If it’s not one thing it’s another, huh!?”

No slack.  I cut myself no slack.  I keep pushing.  I am eating cold cereal and a banana right now.  My first sip of coffee, coming soon.  T-2 hours until my ride gets here.   Focus!


I was laughing because my dad used to call me T.S too.  He said it stood for “Two Stomachs,” referring to how quickly I can devour good tasting cake, nacho’s or anything sprinkled with a bit of GPS protein.  I let that go.  Get out of here!


Once that happens. My nightmares become realities and  memories that I understand as real life and recall to write duty.
I kick her in her booty.  I say, Trudy, I need ya like a whole hole in the head.  I murda those close to me because that’s all I seem to see.  I hear bullshit and blame the fame on the name.  I train 28 hours a day.  I pay for oil filling the whole town’s pen.  I fend for em, he squatted like mr. lake.  My mistake, I pushed through my legs.  I raked it in like I grow a garden, hands free.

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