life is the girl that makes you laugh during evening, then rob you blind and leave you in the gutter
it's been too long since i allowed myself the pleasure of quoting the best robot in the entire universe, so let me indulge: "it's not ironic, it's coincidental!"
i should be - according to modern science - reduced to a small puddle of proteins trying to reach back a human status through the uncanny power of making sad "meeeh" sounds. and yet, i thrive. again!
the lack of sleep had turned me into a sad sad zombie, owning a brain that was completely unused. the global not-being-well of friends was taking its toll on my super powers of opticynicism (the optimism that bites back with a vengeance) and as a lovely addition, i wasn't really up to my reputation of nice boyfriend. but things change. hooray for change!
now, sleeping is not important anymore, since i've evolved beyond the need for sleep with the help of sevencoffeesaday, my new good friend. i noticed that i tend to cackle a bit more that previously, but that's okay since people at work say it goes well with the shaking and the brown teeth. and since my brain wasn't of any use, i sold it to a nice man named Igor who paid me with what seems to be a cartload of coffins. you, dear reader, cannot imagine how one soars through the memeland without a brain lashing you to what is called common sense. i'm currently sipping some Verdana Frappée while i'm using the Saint-Mont-Gic client to write this letter. i won't bore you with the cascades of List i bathed in previously with a very nice Interfazza...
as a bonus, i have evidence that my friends are getting better; they see things clearer now than ever so i threw empathy in the deal with Igor as a bonus. in exchange he promised me i'd have a new body soon. but he told me first i would have to stop eating for me to fit. i'm not ready yet, but i think i may be getting the hang of it since it's less and less difficult. i only fall for gossips which i swallow whole with a bit of lemon and salt spread on top. i love me some fresh gossips
friends who don't have to go better since they seem to be pretty well already are either pregnant or working lots of time. the ones working are having bosses and no time because i think time is eaten by bosses. we must kill bosses to have time, but we must take time to kill the bosses and don't have the time to kill them, which is too bad.
pregnant friends are aplenty because they shine so much they seem to exist more in the world than other friends who seem to exist less. pregnant friends are beautiful; makes me wish i was pregnant. but i'm not so i try to be a peasant on a horse protecting them from harm coming in the streets of Paris. like during the Revolution with less guillotines
i have the weird feeling this post is escaping me and that it is trying to get a life of his own. go little post, fly to the mainstream and reproduce and have lots of nonsense, on the rocks
i'm flattering myself thinking i should join the brotherhood of Dada
i should be - according to modern science - reduced to a small puddle of proteins trying to reach back a human status through the uncanny power of making sad "meeeh" sounds. and yet, i thrive. again!
the lack of sleep had turned me into a sad sad zombie, owning a brain that was completely unused. the global not-being-well of friends was taking its toll on my super powers of opticynicism (the optimism that bites back with a vengeance) and as a lovely addition, i wasn't really up to my reputation of nice boyfriend. but things change. hooray for change!
now, sleeping is not important anymore, since i've evolved beyond the need for sleep with the help of sevencoffeesaday, my new good friend. i noticed that i tend to cackle a bit more that previously, but that's okay since people at work say it goes well with the shaking and the brown teeth. and since my brain wasn't of any use, i sold it to a nice man named Igor who paid me with what seems to be a cartload of coffins. you, dear reader, cannot imagine how one soars through the memeland without a brain lashing you to what is called common sense. i'm currently sipping some Verdana Frappée while i'm using the Saint-Mont-Gic client to write this letter. i won't bore you with the cascades of List i bathed in previously with a very nice Interfazza...
as a bonus, i have evidence that my friends are getting better; they see things clearer now than ever so i threw empathy in the deal with Igor as a bonus. in exchange he promised me i'd have a new body soon. but he told me first i would have to stop eating for me to fit. i'm not ready yet, but i think i may be getting the hang of it since it's less and less difficult. i only fall for gossips which i swallow whole with a bit of lemon and salt spread on top. i love me some fresh gossips
friends who don't have to go better since they seem to be pretty well already are either pregnant or working lots of time. the ones working are having bosses and no time because i think time is eaten by bosses. we must kill bosses to have time, but we must take time to kill the bosses and don't have the time to kill them, which is too bad.
pregnant friends are aplenty because they shine so much they seem to exist more in the world than other friends who seem to exist less. pregnant friends are beautiful; makes me wish i was pregnant. but i'm not so i try to be a peasant on a horse protecting them from harm coming in the streets of Paris. like during the Revolution with less guillotines
i have the weird feeling this post is escaping me and that it is trying to get a life of his own. go little post, fly to the mainstream and reproduce and have lots of nonsense, on the rocks
i'm flattering myself thinking i should join the brotherhood of Dada