I guess it's just my stupid luck that all of Boston drives the same black fucking truck.
[...]
I can't restrain myself sometimes, even with important tests. Why should I, though? That is who I am. I am a vulgar, sadistic, cynical, twisted-- yet strangely ebullient-- character. It flashes from time to time. I swear I have the weirdest feelings of all people. I'll be laughing, my face peeled to a tomato, and analyzing myself with no max for cruelty. I know, sub rosa, that all I am is many layers of different stratospheres, and occasionally one will break, others rushing to the top to conceal the ugly erosions. Or perhaps I don't exactly know what or who I am. All I know for certain is that my dreams are the most beautiful images in the world, the most trying times, and possibly the most sensible impossibilities. The camels, slim rings of fire, and I thought they were sprouting wings. A camasus. Morphing into cows, I accepted that, somehow, and the condoms were on the shelf while I was yelling at the men. The war of the world, and there were many mammals, and we were all Arabs, dirty generalizations, as everything made sense in a juicy sahara atmosphere.
I can't restrain myself sometimes, even with important tests. Why should I, though? That is who I am. I am a vulgar, sadistic, cynical, twisted-- yet strangely ebullient-- character. It flashes from time to time. I swear I have the weirdest feelings of all people. I'll be laughing, my face peeled to a tomato, and analyzing myself with no max for cruelty. I know, sub rosa, that all I am is many layers of different stratospheres, and occasionally one will break, others rushing to the top to conceal the ugly erosions. Or perhaps I don't exactly know what or who I am. All I know for certain is that my dreams are the most beautiful images in the world, the most trying times, and possibly the most sensible impossibilities. The camels, slim rings of fire, and I thought they were sprouting wings. A camasus. Morphing into cows, I accepted that, somehow, and the condoms were on the shelf while I was yelling at the men. The war of the world, and there were many mammals, and we were all Arabs, dirty generalizations, as everything made sense in a juicy sahara atmosphere.