pudding and oatmeal and sloppy joes oh my...
wonderland was never so mushy, but then my little world was never to wonderland. No Alices or Cheshire smiles for me. which is good, I think.
damnit, I;m mixing the shit out of my literary metaphors again. neat-o...
At the local coffee house is amoung other things coffee related, a couple of bathrooms, loosely divided between men's and women's, gender bias aside. In them is the perfunctory and obligatory devices, up to but not including a bowl shaped ass squirter. Additionally to these common places items, one would also find a blackboard, directly next to the toilet, for odd
meanderings of the captive mind, and political/social commentary. Being regionally located in a fairly progressive, egalitarian, semi-liberal-elitist, and a generally gay/lesbian/hippie/punker friendly place someone wrote on the blackboard
" maybe your dreams are real "
Heh, i thought, I'm kinda glad my dream aren't real, and i'm damn sure nobody else wants them to be real. Lizard things stalking hotel resorts, nuclear holocaust, vast fields of nothing but warring demons wearing the face of my father and spires of bone, a long path choked with countless masses of lost souls marching into the depths of a fiery ball of light, and all that was before I was ten years old. That stuff was just scary, now it's fucked up psychologically torturous bullshit.
WTF, ever. I've been sleeping really well (for me) recently anyway, so maybe it isn't really all that important what I was like back then. Well, we are always what we have been, just more of it and hopefully better. Heh, well there's certainly more of me now...
non sequitur: officially glad I got my hair cut, since every cute girl I know has given it a thumbs up and everyone else says it looks good too. Sure it's lame to base one's self image on others; views, but then they do have a much better view of me from out there. And I officially look really normal now, like scary, like hey who's that really normal guy over there, looking normal and doing normal stuff. No, the blonde one, who is actually thinking of really disturbing things, and maniacally writing his manifesto, while sipping on the 15th cup of milky cold coffee, and subtly vibrating in disharmony with the world. Yeeah that guy... nice haircut...
wonderland was never so mushy, but then my little world was never to wonderland. No Alices or Cheshire smiles for me. which is good, I think.
damnit, I;m mixing the shit out of my literary metaphors again. neat-o...
At the local coffee house is amoung other things coffee related, a couple of bathrooms, loosely divided between men's and women's, gender bias aside. In them is the perfunctory and obligatory devices, up to but not including a bowl shaped ass squirter. Additionally to these common places items, one would also find a blackboard, directly next to the toilet, for odd
meanderings of the captive mind, and political/social commentary. Being regionally located in a fairly progressive, egalitarian, semi-liberal-elitist, and a generally gay/lesbian/hippie/punker friendly place someone wrote on the blackboard
" maybe your dreams are real "
Heh, i thought, I'm kinda glad my dream aren't real, and i'm damn sure nobody else wants them to be real. Lizard things stalking hotel resorts, nuclear holocaust, vast fields of nothing but warring demons wearing the face of my father and spires of bone, a long path choked with countless masses of lost souls marching into the depths of a fiery ball of light, and all that was before I was ten years old. That stuff was just scary, now it's fucked up psychologically torturous bullshit.
WTF, ever. I've been sleeping really well (for me) recently anyway, so maybe it isn't really all that important what I was like back then. Well, we are always what we have been, just more of it and hopefully better. Heh, well there's certainly more of me now...
non sequitur: officially glad I got my hair cut, since every cute girl I know has given it a thumbs up and everyone else says it looks good too. Sure it's lame to base one's self image on others; views, but then they do have a much better view of me from out there. And I officially look really normal now, like scary, like hey who's that really normal guy over there, looking normal and doing normal stuff. No, the blonde one, who is actually thinking of really disturbing things, and maniacally writing his manifesto, while sipping on the 15th cup of milky cold coffee, and subtly vibrating in disharmony with the world. Yeeah that guy... nice haircut...
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
ahhhh, yes, if i could've been the first to say that i'd seen a cat without a smile, but never a smile without a cat, i could fall down the rabbit hole a happy woman.
we called him tortoise, because he taught us.