A day at the beach

Honestly, its not mUch of a beach. Its on Lake Martin, a lovely manmade lake in central Alabama.
But the sand, a mix of eroded ahale and granite atop layers of gooey gooey squish and our state's signature red clay.
It grinds the kids' knees a rosy red, but were for hours and a couple hundred dollars from the nearest beach. They'll settle for substitutes.
It does make decent, if primitive sand castles, though. The goo and gravel combine like cement, as granite pebbles jag out like seige-busting spikes.

Writer's block

Folks tell me I have a natural talent for writing. But I never know what to say when faced with a blank unfamiliar page.
I have dozens of great stories, from smoking a joint with Vanilla Ice - 'call me Rob,' he said - to one night in NAshville where I discovered the end result of mixing Spaghetti Vesuvius and some drinks served in blue plastic grenades.
People laugh when I tell the stories, but rarely has anyone insisted I relate them to a new acquaintance.
Mostly, I let others tell the stories. I'm an easy laugher, and it spares me the quiet humiliation of someone interrupting before I even set the stage.
But when I sit before the flourescent void of a blank page, my thoughts bog down in examination of my debilitating lethargy. I've not found the mental traction to power out of my creative bog.
'Suggestions,' I'd ask, if I wasn't so sure my whines were echoing around an empty room.

After a big day playing and pooping,

There's nothing better than chilling out with the Larry-mobile.

Trust no one

The one constant in my life is a lack of trustworthy peers. Does anyone in my generation tell the truth? Does anyone have my back?
Or will I just find that each >REDACTED< made a play for my >>REDACTED<>REDACTED<<>>REDACTED<< at the simplest difference of opinion?
All I want is a normal life, yet soap-opera BS is lurking at every corner.

UPDATE: Don't you just love it when you write a post that's a little more honest than necessary. This thing had some useful questions, but overall was as whiny as a leper at the beach.
Since I don't have any readers, it doesn't really matter. But, one day I'd like to, and I plan to preserve posts to document my evolution (hopefully). So I'll leave the embarrassing melodrama for your mild amusement, while zapping some verbs and nouns that could add friction.
However harmful self-censorship is to the free flow of information, no principle should outweigh self preservation.
I like the new way; it's like Mad-Libs.
This post also illustrates the danger of a crackberry-powered blog. Off the cuff mobile posts tend toward uninspired "because I can" doldrums.