There is a shower of misfires in the head region this a.m. I am requiring a large bottle of coke as well as a tankard of coffee before the sleeper can awaken. The rains are dreary, no? Do you not wish it was toxic urine falling so we could all have a reason to stay in bed? I am contaminating myself with dreams of wagon rides and getting chased by packs of rabid red-eyed dogs. In the end, I am able to escape but still, it is turbulent, as per usual. And yet there are many things to be thankful for. I am aware. I am also aware that I continue to be complicit with most dangers and scum in the world due to my very existence. It is partly my fault and I am sorry. Thanks be to the disembodied ether voices. Hearts to you!!!!
46 comments:
Liquid hotspots are forming on my yellow flesh. I am putting on hotpants in honor of them.
I am craving fried chicken. Badly. A bucket.
I will eat the chicken as I practice yoga. I want to.
I am offering myself up for binding this morning. Perhaps to add levity.
Considering your post, MM, am I to assume our evening of tasty morsels would have to wait until the urine stops falling?
baptise yourself in my toxic waters, and you will be forever unclean, my sweet-meats.
mm, to overcome the drear, think this thought: "Ah! my rain-dance worked!"
A hearty hello to you all this morning. I bet you are hoping I do not dump my toxic turds from the sky upon your gentle heads today. I will try not to. I respect you so.
PD, please checkest thou emails.
Sloth! Always a fine bit of advice from your tender paw paw taps. Hi! I am gurgling the brown elixirs now, the drear is becoming part of my inspiration. I am wearing hot pants and rubber boots, a helmet on my spongey head. What are you wearing? Your cow turtleneck? Tell.
The homeless duds are on order for today, to avoid being chosen for a jury. Must fly, ems. big sticky hearts to you.
i am trying to paddle paddle to the arc of multi-platinum engorgement. pleasing should be the visage in the reflection of the unitard.
beady eyes and little chomper teeth. coming to chomp a little at a time. lick your face in the night and leave poops on your feet.
Vermin, I am jealous of your freedom for I am so stiff and unmoving.
taxidermied bat, you sound like my mother (no offense, mother).
I was a mother once. Sadly, I doubt I was yours.
Oh, TB, I wish I could cheer you. Can you drink coca cola? I see you can type. What else can a TB do?
Mostly I entertain children at birthday parties.
I had a friend develop a special typing apparatus which translates my sonic waves into words and letters.
Wow. This is truly unusual. You are a shock to my system.
I didn't mean to shock. I have been under wraps for so long. I am glad to have a breath of fresh air, so to speak.
It was a shock of the most delightful kind, I assure you. Please keep off your wraps, battypants.
can't catch me. Bat, you are not invited to my birthday.
Brattypants, kindly do not address me as I have no interest in you. Thank you and good night.
I am looking at the tuber penis--it is scaring me.
Mindy!!! Don't look at it. Why are you? It will spew poison at you.
PD, I am dreaming of pumpkin pie now that you have mentioned it...but still I dream of FRIED CHICKEN. I desire it very intensely.
Hello PD, I would like to bake you the most delicious pumpkin pie ever. You can share it with this Mountain Man fellow if you like.
If I may venture to assert my opinion in this forum, I am thinking that fried chicken is a mighty fine food.
Heya MM. . .have you heard from lupus lately? What about Gwendoline?
It is the only penis I have access to.
oh I will be on your mind soon, I'm afraid. Just you wait. bok.
I believe I have consumed too much coffee.
Here's to toxic urine rain! my rain resistant tard in a unitard is shuttling me around today in the rickshaw. LOOK OUT! we splash and thrash.
Pd, i like your list. i bought myself a glazed doughnut today in honor of today and the joy that it is to be alive.
i would like to drink red wine today and eat niblets of cheese and cured meats.
crick crack here i go. crick crack snappity snap.
YOOOOWWWWLLLL.
silence.
House. Why you fuss so? House. Calm yourself. No snaps.
HOT POCKETS. PD. This a guilty pleasure item. I love them.
they call me the mystery trickster, the house of cards. i do what i want when i want. i am home to torments and pleasures.
house do not trick so. it causes great distress.
i am becoming a squatter.
Where is that pie? I'm dyin' over here.
i want a nice hot pocket right now. i want to burn the roof of my mouth.
Yeah, I'd like to burn the flesh right off the roof of my mouth.
someone burned me. now I am leaking.
hmmmmm
"I continue to be complicit with most dangers and scum in the world due to my very existence."
mountain man.... i get that.
a poetry professor once told me there are two types of writer in 2005.
"those who believe nothing matters and it is hopeless to try and be happy.
and,
those who believe all is hopeless, so let's party... not like a gloom and doom party, but like a a beach party, where everyone is listening to the shins and not concerned."
i wake up every day desperately trying to find my swim trunks i seemed to have lost in my youth.
assneck
Assneck, this type of trouble can kill. I like what you say. I think your swim trunks are with mine, buried deep in the earth, near the thunderbird talons. Nighttime rituals once, one time, caused the dirt immersion of everything sparkly and magicful. I don't know. You can pretend maybe, pretend to out them with metal beeper machines. Eat pie or hot pockets and think about the past. But it's just not the same. These are my morning unformed thoughts. Assneck, I like you.
MM, I made an emblem for your new cabinet level department.
Gotta go, have to take a call.
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