wild_zero

i am a bohemian, and this is truth, not some self-righteous pretentious crap whilst diesel shoes strapped onto my nomenclature. perhaps a tattoo of potato shall appear, but it will neither confirm nor deny the true essence of the self. it will merely be a signal of great fortitude, and perhaps somewhat scrawled above my left ankle. i will be exploring other options as an urban shaman in the next month. mostly, i still need to do my taxes, and restore mail service to my humble abode. then, and only then, can the disembodied parrot-head hope to speak truth to us once and for all. indeed, the trip down to tallahassee was filled with adventure and painkillers, and perhaps a flying lizard of some kind which i confused for decor. otherwise, a pronounced chewing of a fuji apple produced a contiguous stream of water to emerge from his mouth, onto his shirt, and onto his pants. this was the message to the hippie girl that the one-armed samoan attorney bastard decided was ripe, but whose ambiguous boy (the incredible sulk) was far too gone to participate or describe ontologies that were adequate at best, yet mostly mundane. the girl with the lustful brown hair is a bitch, and she shall remain so, as long as i have anything to say about it. robots continue to have the miscarriage, and i think about strange creatures with claws for hands and razor sharp teeth. it's not to make anyone distraught, and it can possible be for the weak of stomach, or stomata, or whatever you wish to call it. not that any of my friends are plants, but jesus - the girls love him because he's hung like this. the truth of the matter is that in spite of my verfiable loneliness and other boring stature, it remains to be seen whether or not the sandcastle will withstand the test of the ages, and therefore, find me on a train to central asia with the girl that eats glowing stones. enough of the wake and bake, otherwise i don't get taxes done and then i will have to flee the country, even if they do owe me money. perhaps she wants to come over here. in that case, then by all means. how am i to compute the result? do i look like an abacus? a star child? a ziggurat? take your carrots elsewhere, kind sir. i only take visa, or perhaps a long island. who are these turtleneck motherfuckers? why am i wearing green shoes? ah, so you do understand now, do you? there is much to deprogram and many topknots to dismantle before the night is done. i love you all. please come visit me soon.