Pixie
The topic of Pixie Stix came up with Paul the other day, as I had jollied my way to the Dollar Store to pick up the candy that keeps the employee's at minimum wage. Paul noted,
"Pixie stix is actually slang for when someone does a line of coke off a guys dick." After I sarcastically congratulated him and recommend that he reads Fyodor Dostoevsky novels and wrestle with themes of societal decay, he offered some blow off my dick and use the substance he gave me as a requisite of Heaven. I said,
"That is the dumbest shit you've asked me yet." but then I thought that I truly am an adventurer - a connoisseur of novelty and passion for the breadth of the world that stinks so high it chokes the sky with the taste of metallic honey - I entertained the idea, but decided, "No." He'll just want to blow me after and we've been through this!
Saturday was a blast! In fact, the whole weekend I actually felt great and actually did stuff fooling myself into thinking im a real human being. Ah, yes ... pleasures of carnality. Between going to the arcade, doing drugs at Pauls house, making out with Rose and playing my little StarCraft tournament, I feel fucking amazing. So this is what its like to be a boy. Hah!
Standing on the cusp of sleep and wakefulness hovering above the mouth of the void comes to greet people with a particular disorganization of thought. If you pay attention enough in your sacred silence you will become quite aware that a manifesation of the loosely rooted schema's we all hold have taken prominence and well aware what you are thinking doesnt make sense.
My telescope arrived! An overcast and snow is preventing me from trying it out, but no matter. Adventures can wait, and mean-while my lust for life saturates the hole inside me as the radiance of the Sun ... I have become death, the destroyer of suffering.