(no subject)
my LEASE ON LIFE just RAN OUT but i hear it's really nice in the twilight zone this time of year, nothing like opening your mouth to speak & having all the words hide rather than face the outside world.
i hit the jackpot & now i'm just waiting for the jackpot to hit back but it wouldn't hit a girl & i know i have at least a week--hilarious to think of limits on such things as EXISTENCE until you realize that they apply to YOU. cracked open a bottle of champagne yesterday to celebrate the fact that suddenly possessing a wad of cash leads to being possessed by said wad thereby making it TOTALLY OK to be a waste of life! & am debating whether or not to make said wad disappear in preparation for a tuesday's lukewarm day in hell or whether to have faith in my ability to have people who pay to be set on fire ON MY BEHALF. which i probably do. & am leaning toward the second. though buying a vespa & driving it in some vile non-euclidean arc off the manhattan bridge would be a spectacular way to go if i indeed had to go. but see just because i'm a waste of life doesn't mean i don't really enjoy it a lot!!!! more exclamation points please!!!! i can't feel the ENTHUSIASM!!!!
i'd pull the veil off the hints & tell the wolves that sheep's clothing does absolutely NOTHING for their figures but a bus just drove by destined for bellevue which would be a coincidence but nothing is a coincidence anymore, how many more weekends like the last one can happen before all my synapses sputter & die & spend the rest of their 'lives' watching football on television & chatting idly like someone stuck mouths on the devil's playgrounds about 'the good old days' which they obviously DON'T REMEMBER if they're part of MY BRAIN because there is NO MEMORY HAPPENING HERE. hello tabula rasa may i shake your hand well i would but i forget where i put it. HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT. like those suddenly given the gift of tongues in order to warn me that i'm under surveillance. hi i don't speak english except when it makes you paranoid! should have been previously informed that i'll be paranoid even without his help thank you. & then exiting yet another interchangeable art show where i appear & flashbulbs start creeping up to me & asking how i'm doing. take pictures of the fucking ART ok i'm trying to be incognito here am i famous for something i forgot about? which wouldn't surprise me. probably assassinated some famous political figure, damn, after a while it all blurs together.
how many apocalypses can i stack up before the tower leans a little too far to the right, architecture as a crooked tooth, feeling scattered like the seeds of destruction but the proverbial to-do list just says EVERYTHING & apparently there's only one of me? my hive mind gives you hives. like hey buddy thanks for the skin condition. i'd sign my name but i have to make my signature look different every time! no two alike! they're almost like snowflakes except melt in your mouth not in your hand. the subway train is spying on me because i dented it in a fit of saturday night fever. HELP I CAN'T SHUT UP EVER WHAT IS GOING ON. the better question would be WHAT ISN'T.
i hit the jackpot & now i'm just waiting for the jackpot to hit back but it wouldn't hit a girl & i know i have at least a week--hilarious to think of limits on such things as EXISTENCE until you realize that they apply to YOU. cracked open a bottle of champagne yesterday to celebrate the fact that suddenly possessing a wad of cash leads to being possessed by said wad thereby making it TOTALLY OK to be a waste of life! & am debating whether or not to make said wad disappear in preparation for a tuesday's lukewarm day in hell or whether to have faith in my ability to have people who pay to be set on fire ON MY BEHALF. which i probably do. & am leaning toward the second. though buying a vespa & driving it in some vile non-euclidean arc off the manhattan bridge would be a spectacular way to go if i indeed had to go. but see just because i'm a waste of life doesn't mean i don't really enjoy it a lot!!!! more exclamation points please!!!! i can't feel the ENTHUSIASM!!!!
i'd pull the veil off the hints & tell the wolves that sheep's clothing does absolutely NOTHING for their figures but a bus just drove by destined for bellevue which would be a coincidence but nothing is a coincidence anymore, how many more weekends like the last one can happen before all my synapses sputter & die & spend the rest of their 'lives' watching football on television & chatting idly like someone stuck mouths on the devil's playgrounds about 'the good old days' which they obviously DON'T REMEMBER if they're part of MY BRAIN because there is NO MEMORY HAPPENING HERE. hello tabula rasa may i shake your hand well i would but i forget where i put it. HIDING IN PLAIN SIGHT. like those suddenly given the gift of tongues in order to warn me that i'm under surveillance. hi i don't speak english except when it makes you paranoid! should have been previously informed that i'll be paranoid even without his help thank you. & then exiting yet another interchangeable art show where i appear & flashbulbs start creeping up to me & asking how i'm doing. take pictures of the fucking ART ok i'm trying to be incognito here am i famous for something i forgot about? which wouldn't surprise me. probably assassinated some famous political figure, damn, after a while it all blurs together.
how many apocalypses can i stack up before the tower leans a little too far to the right, architecture as a crooked tooth, feeling scattered like the seeds of destruction but the proverbial to-do list just says EVERYTHING & apparently there's only one of me? my hive mind gives you hives. like hey buddy thanks for the skin condition. i'd sign my name but i have to make my signature look different every time! no two alike! they're almost like snowflakes except melt in your mouth not in your hand. the subway train is spying on me because i dented it in a fit of saturday night fever. HELP I CAN'T SHUT UP EVER WHAT IS GOING ON. the better question would be WHAT ISN'T.