There Are Too Many Adverbs In My Love Life

I know it's late, but you have to admit a certain sexiness accompanies a broken deadline. Why was I late with this? Could I have been doing some heavy drugs? Maybe a knife fight in a hotel room bathed in semen and blood. The truth lies somewhere in between fact and the those situations.

Actually no, I procrastinate too much.

Way too much. I do it like I think if I keep doing it I'm going to win a prize. For every five thousand hours of procrastination I receive a care package of ecstasy and a loaded gun. I would really like a loaded gun.

Ok, truth time. Only, not really, never tell the whole truth and only the truth, nobody cares about the truth and if they did we'd all be paying the water bills of those thirsty souls in Detroit right now. It wasnt but a few issues into Transmetropolitan that Spider Jerusalem wrote those words I often think about alone in the shower:

"If any of you gave two tugs of a dead dog's cock about truth..."

The truth is boring and here in the "first world" we've exercised a mastery over the essentials of survival and are now free to contemplate how to squander all this excess time. Great and glorious days here, though not for everyone of course. White supremacy is still seeing to that. "But that's not real" cries a white guy who never said anything important. Fuck that hypothetical guy. If anyone follows his imaginary lead then fuck them too. Fuck them with hypodermic pitchforks with spring loaded aids launching from their tips. Ahh fuck. It's been too long since I've sat down and wrote nonsense. Too long. It still feels good. It still feels right. Like destiny unfolding or a return to an active sexual life after an unfulfilling marriage and satisfying divorce.

There are too many adverbs in my love life.

These words flow into the computer from the air inside a Taco Bell on Loop 288, one of the more specialer roads in my hometown of Denton. I like this Taco Bell because it is within my price range and is not inhabited by any member of my family. I love a decent proportion of my family, but sometimes I can't help but feel like everything is amazing when none of them are around.

I'm not good at keeping my mind from wandering, but I'm pretty experienced with keeping it from wondering. I spent a few years mastering that skill and I have the napkins covered with uninspired words to prove it. Ha-durp. Da-durp.

What would be something fun to do that would horrify everyone? I wonder how many pastors have ever contemplated something like that. More than anyone would think, I think.

I would love to make this kind of writing a daily occurrence. And you know what? I can. All I need to do is find a way to make money appear out of thin air and then spend it on gas and shredded chicken burritos. Then, from behind my receipt granting me time in the building, I will sit on my asses laptop and break into the ideascape with tools ranging from chisels to nuclear warheads. God what a wonderful thing that will be. Nuke the page at the Taco Bell. There is a joke in there somewhere about nuking and Taco Bell, for my uncultured and uncouth friends this joke will find itself in their thoughts very fucking easily.

The adverb floundered weakly.

I wonder about the process in the brain that causes adverbs to water down prose. Like, I'm sure Ham could tell me about the mechanics of it and all, but I wonder sometimes what a thinking brain would taste like if you were to lick it. Would it shock you? It would certainly shock anyone looking at you. Damn I'm glad I only got one burrito. It's hard to imagine the shit I eat contributing in any meaningful way to my continued biological functioning. It's like pouring garbage into a furnace, yes it will burn, but you can almost see the flames wanting to curl up and vomit.

This may be the longest post I've had in a while. And in this longest post we have now reached the point where most of those who laid their eyes upon this page have left in disgust. So now we can get to the really sexy part of this entry.

Oh yes baby, sexy sexy. Mee0www. What's with cats being associated with sexy? Most languages with gendered pronouns assign to cats an inherent femininity. Why is this? Because their slender and graceful? Maybe there was one man (because it had to be a man) who had some sort of bestial attraction to cats and was overheard speaking about a sexy kitty cat or something in that vein. "That sounds cool," said the people who overheard and were ignorant of the horror beneath his sentiment.

You know a thousand words is not that hard to write when you have no guidelines or direction or even a hint of discipline or an inclination to go back to edit it. I'm going to have to do this every goddamn day and not shirk it like I'm probably going to do anyhow. I need to put the effort into it. I need more effort. E for effort. Ride the effort elephant, the effortant. He knows where the word truffles are buried, but he won't get you there unless you bury the caddle prod into his backside.

And by backside I mean ass.

This malleable language of ours... hours. H'ourdourves... did I spell that correctly? Who cares, nobody is reading this. I can write whatever the fuck I want and nobody, not even my own sense of decency, can fucking stop me. This does not apply to my physical presence though since I'm still in public at a fuckin restaurant, but soon I will be in a room where I can do any sick, loud thing I want to do. The several hours of the future are pregnant with perverted possibility that will certainly dissolve into netflix and sexual daydreaming. And on that note…