monkeybuttt

so tonight at the laundromat, confused after a day of making out with the gardener at work, i was accosted by a shirtless man who wanted me to know intimately about the nerve gas coming up out of the ground...the nerve gas raised by house plants "between here and seattle washington, and on over to china."

i tried to avoid him by making conversations with a girl i recognized from my sushi restaurant, but he wasn't swayed. he came over to us both, all peeling scalp and lisp and shirtless smell, and showed us a drawing of "my porsche. this is me and this is my horse. this is my girlfriend, and my girlfriend, and my girlfriend. this guy in the back has an i q of one million six hundred thousand. i think if we split it right down the middle we'll be ok. if we can negotiate that we'll be alright. "

i said "let me get back to you on that" and he went away for a while, blessedly. i threw all my laundry in the basket, barely dry, and folded it at home.

then i watched "my own private idaho" and wondered about life. the cinematography in this film is amazing.

what do you hope your last words are before you pass through the veil?