I Have A Tumblr Page

Well gawl-ley, Sgt. Carter.
Don’t remember signing up, but there it is…see the link right—here:  http://chuckjunk.tumblr.com/
I reblogged a funny picture of a dog in a marijuana field.
I learned what a gif is.
I posted one of those.  It’s really funny, too.  I’m dizzy with a sense of accomplishment.
It’s been a technological whirlwind.

It’s been a busy day.
I follow an arty tumblr page by someone called Alicia Crider.  There’s a lot of tasteful nekkidity on it, but it’s art so it’s okay and I should be fine because I don’t go to church.  I had a big crush on a girl whose last name was Crider for a day in 1986.  I met her in a diner the day the USS Challenger crashed.  We both cried.  I smoked one of her cigarettes and fell in love with her even though I had a very pretty, very nice girlfriend.  That night I realized that I couldn’t recall the girl’s first name, I’d been so busy repeating her last name so I could look her up in the student directory.  Not that I would have done that.  It wasn’t Alicia, though.  That much I’m sure about.  There weren’t any Alicias in western Pennsylvania in 1986.  At least, not that I knew.

About JunkChuck

Native, Militant Westsylvanian (the first last best place), laborer, gardener, and literary hobbyist (if by literary you mean "hack"). I've had a bunch of different blogs, probably four, due to a recurring compulsion to start over. This incarnation owes to a desire to dredge up the best entries of the worst little book of hand-scrawled poems I could ever dream of writing, salvageable excerpts from fiction both in progress and long-abandoned. and a smattering of whatever the hell seems to fit at any particular moment. At first blush, I was here just to focus on old, terrible verse, but I reserve the right to include...anything. Maybe everything, certainly my love of pulp novels growing garlic, the Pittsburgh Steelers and howling at the moon--both figuratively and, on rare occasions, literally.
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