So, I sat down to write a story, you see.  And I thought, why not write about this moment right now.  This moment when I sit and write, listening to myself sing along to the radio in my headphones (can't get better if I don't review what I do).  Right now, I'm listening to Tom Petty, and, of course myself.  Trying to sing a song I barely know.  Which means being a little behind the vocals.  I just fucked up.  That just makes me laugh.  But it makes me wonder how I can remember those words.  I get a flash of a thought that leads me down enchanting rabbit holes.  Oo, new song, Beatles.  Okay, I gotta not write about the damn songs.  I'm tempted to record the writing of this.  I plan to perform this.  This isn't funny…  Oh damn.  Anyway, I'm high at the moment.  When I perform this, I will be sober.  Perhaps I will try to imitate being high.  Or maybe I'll read it like a transcript.  I have to memorize this!  This is brain droppings.  I mean, we can all make caricatures of ourselves.  I'll just watch a lot of George Carlin's Hippie Dippie Weather Man.  I just changed the format of this from single spaced to double spaced, as I am turning this into a professor, and I keep forgetting they prefer it this way.  But it's a trip, now I feel like I'm doing an assignment.  Not like that makes it more laborious, it makes it more important.  I don’t fuck around with my homework.  But this time I'm fucking around and showing what it's like.  The trick will be pulling off the execution of that sentence.  Remember people you are in a story, my story.  Which happens to be about a moment and a lot of stream of consciousness writing.  Some say this has been done before, I say I have yet to read Ulysses. But I plan to.  Yes, so here I am, sitting on a donut.  I don't really need the donut any more, but they are just so comfortable.  It's like a seat wherever I want, take it outside, sit on the concrete on this inflatable cushion in the shape of a large donut.  Actually it's more onion ring in shape, and these would be thick cut onion rings.  I'm just trying to visualize it for you.  I'm still listening to myself, by the way.  You must remember something, reader, listener, the time it takes to write something is a lot longer than it is to read or hear it.  So, I have heard quite a few songs of myself singing to the radio, right now I'm on Aerosmith, Sweet Emotion.  And I know most of the words.  Uh oh, now for some Fogerty.  I never know the words, I just make up sounds.  You know, I think for the next two bits, I will do them sober.  People can't follow something like this.  Good.  I already feel as no one will understand me, why not make it easy to not understand me.  Say, wait, what?  Maybe I'll quit herb.  I was thinking about it the entire way to getting it.  One of the annoying parts of sobriety is the continual thoughts of shouldn't I always be sober.  When I think about it when I'm high, I just get distracted for a very long time, and it's just a buzz kill.  And when you're high, it's easier to blow off bad vibes.  Like, just before I sat down here and started writing, I saw my mother closing the windows to the backyard, which is where I was sitting, bong next to me.  It kinda tripped me out, but not in the way I wanted to be tripped out.  She looked disappointed as she closed the window and turned away.  I am a disappointment to my mother.  So, I will hide, I suppose.  I feel as though I am a menace somehow.  Am I no better than the degenerate gambler though?  It's definitely a hobby that costs dough and very rarely pays off big.  Then you can rap about it in your next platinum album.  In fact, for my next story, I think I will rap it.  Let me rap it, give you the haps.  Perhaps I can tap it.  For my audience is worldwide.  I'm on the internet.  That shit never disappears.  It's like graffiti on an endless wall.  That's the internet.  My graffiti is music a lot of times.  My music has ended.  The stuff in my headphones.  I'm wearing…  Okay, I'm not wearing headphones [removes them].  My vaporizer has died, by the way, which is a homemade contraption I made for smoking marijuana.  Well, actually, I heat it and the volatile oils in the herb uh… looks it up… sublimates in to the water vapor.  Or something.  It doesn't smell as bad as a bong, and if used properly is safer than one too, that is, better for your body.  Man, I hate talking about that shit though, makes me sound like a chemist.  Let's just say my smoking implement for indoors smoking is pretty much dead.  I had a great working one for years and years, but my parents threw that out when they moved me out of my apartment.  The great thing about writing is you can just switch topics whenever you feel, especially if questions start forming in the receiving ear.  I think my time is up.