Insomnia

In less than three hours I will have been up for an entire day. Unfortunately, it is in no way shape or form voluntary. I laid there trying everything; counting breaths, concentrating on relaxing my toes and then moving up the body, Sleepy Time tea, reading. No luck. My brain simple will not shut off. So, I rolled out of bed and figured what better time to start a blog.

I used to post my short fiction on myspace, which I'm sure I'll post on here in various degrees of completion, but I've never put my rants to paper, and I've been ranting a lot lately!

First off.

Definition: "You Are So On The Rocket"
Everyone naturally assumes that there is some sort of sexual connotation going on there. While it may be hard (wink, wink) for some to ignore the phallic, it's orgins lie in the dorky recessess of Simi Valley High School.

Among my many friends and cohorts was a one Mattamillion Raum. Part Andy Rooney, part Pinky & The Brain and part Unabomber, Matt had this crazy idea to run for Governor of the state of California on the platform of enacting a State run Space Program. Why let the underfunding of N.A.S.A. stand in the way of humans colonizing the cosmos? Of course the real goal was to invite a specialy selected group of individuals, let's call them "undesirables". They would board the spacecraft thinking they were to terraform the moon or Mars, but all Matt wanted to do was to shoot them into the sun.

The list would fluctuate from day to day: Teachers, Celebrities, heiressess, anyone who had ever appeared on a reality show. Cross his path and "You are so on the fucking rocket!"

So get your minds out of the gutter. You should know by now that anything I say has to have a dorky, yet oddly charming origin.

OK, I think this is enough for now. Stay tuned for some short fiction.
Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel.