Hair Flippin

08-08-2014 16:15 Holy hell I can almost see the words I'm typing. Those with fully functional eyes won't be able to sympathize with my exaltation, fuck them.

So, I've let another week slip by. There's nothing to say about that I think. This doesn't even have to be a journal entry, though I do need to write some sort of entry before too long, as well as a letter to Merys. I also need to get my arms going again. I'm weak and sore from stasis.

The chair I'm sitting in is moderately nice. Fairly nice. I wouldn't kill anyone for it unless they were a particularly horrifying person and those who were oppressed would reward me with a chair for their assassination. I wonder, what is the most bourgeois gift has ever been given in exchange for murder? I'd like to think it would be some sort of gift card or coupons. Actually, paying anyone anything besides cash for a murder seems potent with hilarity.

"I will give you a Dodge Dart in exchange for my husband's head."

There's a pair of children on the other side of the room I'm in playing and I don't hate them. I've really grown up I think. I wonder if anyone else I used to know has changed in this way. So many of them were motivated by the pursuit of "lulz" Have any of them developed themselves? What of empathy Bastard Joe? Have you been changed by any sort of suffering into second guessing your position on dead baby jokes? If not, thne should I hate Bastard Joe and the rest of the those terrible souls? What would I have thought of myself back then. Probably the same as I think of myself now. What would old me have thought of new me? Hell, what will I think of me in several years from now? I hope the answer is god fuck I'm sexy as shit.

What to make of people who masturbates to themselves. You would be staggered by the amount of professionals who do.

Speaking of people, I just took too long a glance at hot mom in the corner. She looks like she could use a massage. Maybe I could offer her one. Pardon me madam, might you fancy a rub down? I fear nothing, bring on your answer.

Then I look to my mp3 player and on it is an image of that girl I'm so into. She's making an adorable face in the photo. I wish I could dive into it and do perverted things with her. Well no, not really. Perversion isn't all it's cracked up to be. It's more like, some sort of condition that has to be addressed with a proper procedure in order to alleviate madness to a point where you are able to function like a goddamn human being. I would love to alleviate all over her and then have a lovely discussion and cuddling.

It's August 8th, 2014 and I'm starting to wonder if there's any Gaza left. Russia has been portrayed recently as being stubborn about the sanctions placed onto it by several countries over the goings on in the Ukraine, but I wonder if we're being portrayed over there as not having any scruples to spare over Israel raping Gaza in front of an international community that is collectively closing the shutters and muttering something about it being "none of our business."

What's that? World events? No time for that now some beautiful young woman just sat across from me and thanks to my peripheral vision I can see her looking over at me. Surely she's not interested in the only other obvious thing in this direction, my 200 dollar Asses laptop. Well maybe she is. Maybe she's a fan of budget computers. An Asus groupie. Yearning for the easily attainable for those with at least a part time job. It would be lovely to have some sort of practical fetish like that. Wait is she still looking at me? Quit distracting me beautiful lady I'm trying to write about a hypothetical fetish you probably don't possess. "I get so fucking hot over canned goods from the Dollar Tree." Yeah you do, fifty cent cans of spaghetti-o's.

I really wish CNN wasn't on the television here. I refuse to forgive them for running a story on their website about how Kim Kardashian writes like James Joyce. The article ended up being fluff about a website that you paste a wall of text into. The site then ignores the actual text and submits to you a random author that the text supposedly resembles in cadence and style. Fuck CNN. Fuck the people on it. Do you hear me Wolf Blitzer? I hope your beard blooms with poisonous mold. Richard Dreyfous looking motherfucker.

Wow there is something about the girl across from me. Some sort of energy that I can detect. Interest can be a powerful aphrodisiac but there's something else in the mix here… Can I really trust my brain in moments like this? It's burned me too many times. Oh god she's playing with her hair. You know what would be funny right now, if I shit myself. She'd assume she had some sort of tangible power over men, and I would add the incident onto the pile of memories I'll probably end up forgetting until some incidental happening makes me recall the moment. Happens all the time.

THE KEYWORD IS CHRISTIAN! A man leaving this office saw the word "Christians" on the screen and had to stop to look for about fifteen seconds. "NOT ON MY WATCH" was the look he had. Onward christian soldier, go back to your Tundra, there's nothing you can do. Those christians are in Iraq and you'll be sorely fucked if anyone thinks you'll lift a finger for them. Then I look up for just a second, still playing with her hair looking over. It's got to be the Asus, budget fetish, and I look like a hobo so she must assume that I know cheap places to do all sorts of fun things.