If The Universe Could Think, I Think It Would Opt Out Of Possessing That Ability Because, Come On, That's A Lot Of Shit To Mull Over.

Tonight I am thinking about someone I hate instead of someone I love. Also, for some reason when I think on this and then look at my hands, they look unnatural. Nothing is wrong with my hands, they just appear out of place. Maybe I've been looking at the computer for too long and become accustomed to the screen instead of the flesh and blood that spends so much time in front of it.

Back to the hate, the warm fuzzy hate. I wonder how other people hang with the anger. Do you people find yourself floating in a strange comfort zone while a woman sings a jazzy rendition of some song you could have sworn you heard before? Like hate is your favorite club, where you go to piss all over your chance to swing at the Love Lounge. That's fine though, it's "comfortable" in this shithole, for some reason it suits you, why else would you keep coming?

So here I am, dying. I'm in relatively good health, but the minutes and seconds are ticking away. There is no way that the universe could comprehend me right now, and even if it could wrap itself around the concept of me, what would it care? I know for a fact that within my body there exists microscopic living things, and beyond that the atoms that make up everything. What would I think, if I found out that for a brief moment in time, a flick a light that might not have been there in the darkness, had spent that amount of time causing its own misery? I would probably act as the universe would act, mutter to myself "that's stupid," and get on with existing until the big freeze.

But here I am, thinking about that fuckface when I could be thinking about a cherished one. Hmmm, this could mean that perhaps its not all hate. I probably want it to be hate, but there's other lingering forms of misery there, comfort in the fact that this or that. That shit needs to be squashed, and how! I can't be wasting my time on sorrow when there's so much in the world to hate.

Spic And Span

Earlier today I wanted to be the Divine King of grasshoppers so I went into the woods and massacred about 50 something grasshoppers. This provoked the king who turned out to be George Lopez dressed as a grasshopper to come out and face me.

He began his assault by telling unimaginative jokes but I countered by cutting him down in a hail of bullets. He had more rounds than a bar full of Mexicans after pay day.


Now that I am the Divine King of the grasshoppers I can stop typing this entry.

PIC OF GAY DUDES KISSING LOL

I have forgotten how to change the font. No matter, that's not important at the moment. What is important is this feeling that, given the amount of time it would take to liposuction the fat out of Glenn Beck's face, roughly the same amount of time it will take for the universe to freeze and enter a null and dead state, I could never find the words to express properly.

It's cold outside and I can see the stars and there is still such a thing as chocolate milk. I couldn't be any happier if the Queen of Blowjobs and Wild Animal Sex was knocking on my door with a fistful of thousand dollar bills.

I'm in heaven.

This is heaven.

and the truest words now are "it can only get better."

Of course it could always get worse, and will at times, but life and the deep deep things still kick and still stand. Things you will never understand, never think on and never dream of and never realize before you die exist above and beyond, and they make me ecstatic to be alive in what Steve Vai lovingly refers to as an Ultra World.

Don't worry vermin, you can have it too, in fact its easier than you think because, as a wise colored man once said, we are all connected to each other biologically, to the earth chemically, and to the rest of the universe in time. We're made of stardust and moxy, of giant gardens of flowering life exploding through ruin and the death of a planet. Toss in sex, tons of sex, and even if you don't dig it like a ditch there's something for you.

This is a poorly executed exegesis of something lived instead of something said, of things to come and bombs that will tear through uninformed flesh and unprepared minds.

Shifting Static And Not Getting a God Damned Thing Done

I know, I'm being inconsistent.

It's true, I've been indulging in a terrible addiction. I wish it was drugs, that'd be cool, but no, it's something lame that I won't get into.

I like to lay down as exhaustion sets in. My mind starts twisting and shining terrible light before I fall unconscious. Strange things pass over me and I lose track of time and location. Light shifts and the voices speak different languages. It's very nice. I also like to sit in my room with all the lights off with a radio tuned to an off-air channel with the volume up so the static is all I can hear. Who needs acid when you've got that shit amirite amirite?

I'm going to go crank up the radio and spend a few more days being unproductive.

SERIOULY

GOD DAMN FUCKING HELL ON EARTH

I done went and let a few things get worse than they needed to be. Luckily, overall things are still pretty fantastic. And while enjoying a neutral mindset and finally coming close to having peace of mind are wonderful things, I really must get back to stressing myself out over getting things done.

Why must I? Because some things must be done. Some stories must be told. Some things have to happen.

I'm going to wrap this up for now because I just realized my email account has been hacked and was being used to send out spam mail, and not the normal spam hate letters I send to random people, the not fun kind.