Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Prehension
The tragedy of the world is that there is not enough time to find the secret source of mega-devil tabs to uplift you out of your dreaded self and take you somewhere ecstatic for every second, all the time, for the rest of time. I am a woodpecker and I peck my head ceaselessly at trees and never get a headache (even though I always have one). There is a puddle of hot melted crayons that I am about to step into, merely because there is nothing better to do. I have asked the Juggler from the Woods and the Fan of Adult Contemporary Music to initiate a union near the cave entrance. I have asked them to fool me into thinking I am a wizard with magical fruity-time Mountain Man powers. I have asked them to fashion power cuffs for me to symbolize witlessness now and in the future. Back to gummy filters and visions of glowing haze layers, the delusion of making, the distraction from lack of functionality and fear of position-assumption.
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22 comments:
The curdling will continue until you require it to stop, you can do this with voices or tabs, either way, it's up to you. Junk is fallling onto your toes from the cloudy ether-box that dwarfs you. Plenitude comes in waves of violence and insults, this is inverse and disproportionate to what is needed. If you find yourself wanting to jump in the pit and stab yourself with needles, you must jump.
Maybe you can breathe underwater.
There is no more me, I am deleting myself. This is a form of auto-control that precludes disasters.
Many unlucky deletion. Many bad thoughts. Try maybe negation, deprivation, no fear position-assumption, most lucky place inside. Sun shines dark places, even ivory billed woodpeckers found.
Oh Sushi. Your name should be Sushi Helpful instead of Sushi Blameful. There is a squadron car I am building that you may ride in if you like. We may visit the chewed up babies in the rung below the loveless skanks beneath the melted crayons, beneath the bridge.
it is tragic to not have ecstastic uplifting fun, yes. but it seems like you have it regularly so consider yourself a lucky one.
There is no fun in this world.
Just toil and foiled plans and aspirations.
I do not have the attire to aspire.
I want to expire.
try rape pnats, PJ.
Or pj's, though they are not as aspiring...
that's rape pants, sorry..
I have cut my rape pants into Bermuda-type shorts. They are now just grope pants.
You need a mind rape.
i need some power cuffs made for me as well, mm, to symbolize tantalyzingly similar apparitions.
PD, in my opinion we should get married on Veteran's Day. What do you think?
We have been killed off by the fish with dagger-like teeth. We are now just frog spirits, mute, without the green parts. We are rambunctious, ready for revenge.
There is a manner of lack of ability to focus and exert presence. Hi Frogs.
Noisy thumpers of mime-time, hand-waving embarrassment, no one thinks I am saying anything but I am I swear it. Thump thump thump on the keyboard with metal prosthetic hands operated via mouth-hole. Tardliness is the status quo. Buoyancy is an aspiration.
I don't get it.
Veteran's day! Yes, MM. Don't back out.
PD I solemnly swear not to. We will dress like soldiers maybe?
Yes, and I will wear my peg!
I am ecstatic all the time. You should just eat candy every hour.
This sounds fun, I would like to meet you some day. Thanks for your silliness. Please keep it up.
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