hobotron

[verruka]

Today I walked down Coventry Road, in my pajamas and black overcoat, wearing a false mustache and pushing a discarded umbrella stroller full of aluminum cans. I felt gloriously, lugubriously like a hobo. I saw the tilt of the world just then, and after three Redbulls and an agonizing afternoon spent in the unforgiving clutches of writer's block, I finally came to a very important conclusion:

nothing really matters/ anyone can see/ that nothing really matters/ nothing really matters/ to meeee!!!

Oh Freddie.

Lux Interior died this month.

I learned a new work today: "chickanery" (artful subterfuge)