Kids, let's talk about flesh-eating.
I am an opportunivore and scavenger and if it ain't poison, it goes in my mouth.
You know what's beautiful? The same goddamn dirty hippies that will spew such grand wisdom as "listen to your body" and "your body is telling you to ______" will be the first to coo and whimper and martyr themselves when somebody throws bacon on the griddle.
You know why that swine flesh smells so good to you, hippie? Because your body is telling you to masticate some muscle.
Don't devolve. Be proud of where you are on the foodchain while you're there. Because as soon as humans slip back -- as soon as something bigger and stronger and hopefully armed decides it would like to have me for a snack -- I'm game. I will be honored to be eaten. I will salute the predator as the teeth sink into my jugular.
I love animals, okay? Including myself. I have pets. These pets do not eat each other and I do not eat them. Would they eat other living things that would fit within their jaws? Yes. It's not that being a stream of survival instincts makes us helpless or heartless. It is natural to prey and be preyed upon. Far more natural than to slather yourself with patchouli in place of bathing.
Anyway, in celebration of these ideals, I would like to officially announce that I am sponsering a vegetarian! Congratulations, Russ! For every animal you don't eat, I'll eat three! I'll quit as soon as you do!
In other news, I will be paying rent today, with a little extra something-something for my landlord: a thirty day notice!
Roses are red
Violets are awesome.
Slumming was fun
Please enjoy my deposit.
Obviously, rhyming is a level that a poet such as myself is incapable of stooping to.
Anyway, I'm moving in with Maren and it will be party city forever and ever. I am so excited. I'm glad I waited, because the time is now right.
Also, I fucking love painting, apparently. I'm working on a poster-sized self-portrait. I felt so orgasmically introspective, kneeling nude and smeared with paint, forgetting my cigarette and relighting it for every drag, and singing along with Tom Waits until the neighbors got up for work at six thirty.
Maybe cocaine could fix my procrastination. My sinuses, septum, and sanity would be such a small price to pay for productivity.
Haha. Licking spilled lines off of his pants. Brilliant. This is not my life any longer. Every day is a movie, starring me. I am an autobiography in real time. Let's make use of it, shall we?
(Post script: If you take me too seriously, it's your own fault. Also, I respect vegetarians and even vegans that are, uh, respectable.)
I am an opportunivore and scavenger and if it ain't poison, it goes in my mouth.
You know what's beautiful? The same goddamn dirty hippies that will spew such grand wisdom as "listen to your body" and "your body is telling you to ______" will be the first to coo and whimper and martyr themselves when somebody throws bacon on the griddle.
You know why that swine flesh smells so good to you, hippie? Because your body is telling you to masticate some muscle.
Don't devolve. Be proud of where you are on the foodchain while you're there. Because as soon as humans slip back -- as soon as something bigger and stronger and hopefully armed decides it would like to have me for a snack -- I'm game. I will be honored to be eaten. I will salute the predator as the teeth sink into my jugular.
I love animals, okay? Including myself. I have pets. These pets do not eat each other and I do not eat them. Would they eat other living things that would fit within their jaws? Yes. It's not that being a stream of survival instincts makes us helpless or heartless. It is natural to prey and be preyed upon. Far more natural than to slather yourself with patchouli in place of bathing.
Anyway, in celebration of these ideals, I would like to officially announce that I am sponsering a vegetarian! Congratulations, Russ! For every animal you don't eat, I'll eat three! I'll quit as soon as you do!
In other news, I will be paying rent today, with a little extra something-something for my landlord: a thirty day notice!
Roses are red
Violets are awesome.
Slumming was fun
Please enjoy my deposit.
Obviously, rhyming is a level that a poet such as myself is incapable of stooping to.
Anyway, I'm moving in with Maren and it will be party city forever and ever. I am so excited. I'm glad I waited, because the time is now right.
Also, I fucking love painting, apparently. I'm working on a poster-sized self-portrait. I felt so orgasmically introspective, kneeling nude and smeared with paint, forgetting my cigarette and relighting it for every drag, and singing along with Tom Waits until the neighbors got up for work at six thirty.
Maybe cocaine could fix my procrastination. My sinuses, septum, and sanity would be such a small price to pay for productivity.
Haha. Licking spilled lines off of his pants. Brilliant. This is not my life any longer. Every day is a movie, starring me. I am an autobiography in real time. Let's make use of it, shall we?
(Post script: If you take me too seriously, it's your own fault. Also, I respect vegetarians and even vegans that are, uh, respectable.)