Iron Chef is a total fucking scam. The taste tests weren’t blinded! So much bias.
And I’m home and once again have no idea to do with myself.
Guess it’s time to hit the bottle.
Here’s to a healthy life of alcoholism.
I don’t know. What do you think? Waste of time? Complete waste of time? Three times is the minimum. It’s a diarhhetic. It makes you convulse. It loosens the hips. Treat yourself well, we all do. It’s important to stick together. Feel the flow and loose yourself in the wind. Wind up like a paper doll, mechanical. She was an android. She was too polite. Too friendly. If androids were real, she’d be an android. I left her years ago and still wonder where I’m going. I could say things. I really could. But it’s hard to find the flow in a rock palace. Her magic was alluring and enchanting. Is it really so hard to believe that our elements were incompatible? Timing along the jelly row. Feel hard, feel like it’s tough to be out and about. Feel on fire. Skin underneath the Earth. All that molten venom, seething. We sleep sound in our world. It’s alright. I swear it’s alright. Very tempting to spray another lawn or send out a distress signal for those wayfarers who go where we have gone. It’s a pretty landscape. It’s time to move on. Be yourself, and I’ll be myself. We have a passage, a vassal, some mandalas (learnt that word today–who cares). Be courageous. See all the ads imprinted on your retina. Be kind to strangers. It’s who cares for who, it’s time to let go. Be aligned in your self. Be with one. Be it all or be nothing. I never let things pass this far. It’s a habit, I know I’m not good in that sense. But we all lend it some credence when its time has come. Fun noodles, fun fetti, fun little pink lamp shades on the windowsill adding flavor the architect imagined would be compatible with his form. So one says, it’s not about form, it’s about atmosphere. So he says. Another famous name went to Morocco and edited the native music to suit his tastes. Inauthentic, but spiritual, and according to the radio station, “A dive into his psyche.” That’s paraphrased but true. Don’t let me down, you mother. Help with a canvas, pin-pointed GPS coordinates of the lost treasure. Feel free to shut it out when the windows need to be closed. The next rave will be even better than the last. It’s all about lashing out. Feel your force and be in tune with the rhythm. It’s all about being something that wants to be somewhere where there is a vibe that doesn’t clash with the attitude attributed to your hard-working, well-paid lifestyle of depression and belittlement. Your co-workers love you, so who is to bother? Be paid. Be paid. Be paid. Don’t feel it under pressure, just work and stay alive. It’s all to come. After life. We know there’s nothing other than an energy that permeates the universe. Feel at one with it. Commandment number five: He who bids higher than the highest bidder has a vendetta with fate. Feelings numb, time to resolve. It’s out of our control but we have to do something about it. Little steps in the wrong direction are what we risk; is that not equivalent in magnitude but diametric in goodness to progress? It’s a timeless treasure. It’s time to move on. We want you so so so so so so so so so so so so so so badly it hurts. We hope you will show us your favorite tattoo so we can buy it for you, all expenses paid. Expansive metaphorical vacations to the rain jungle. Interlude now. And stop. And the red signs mean something because that’s how we were indoctrinated. I hope you like it and I hope you phone your local news reporter. This story’s HOT. Like pancakes in a winter gridle iron toasted to perfection. Lick that sauce, honey, cause it’s HOT. Like fire ants in the crotch, or an LED light proclaiming that Yes, the sound is indeed on and working. Favorite music? Grunge rap. Tailored for it. Couldn’t say where or how. We went on adventures and I think that’s all there is to it. Natural daycation spots found haphazardly. Wee-woo, down the waterfall we go. It’s an interesting thing, to be so little and so fluent in spirit all at the same time. It’s an interesting phenomenon. I hope you agree.
Friday I’M IN LOVE. La la la la la. <3
I feel like all I do, whether it’s writing or work, is slave labor. No more freedom. No more disguise. Just slave labor.
Finished the bottle of gin. We’ll see who’s a slave NWO! Hahahahamuahahaa.
I opened my window not least of all because I wanted to hear the trumpeteer playing from down the street.