Oh, that was so you.
I’ll just take his car.
Pepper, RIP buddy. I will miss you.
Mostly, ‘cuz I took these pictures.
Got hugs from mom and sis, and said hello to Hollie. She’s m’neice, and she’s a princess. And an angel.
I can’t lie. I just can’t. I don’t fucking know why, but I refuse to do it. You’re strong-willed about eating shit, so what the fuck?
Everyone has the dictator in them, and they use it as often or as infrequently as is necessary to maintain whatever boundaries one requires.
Pepper the beautiful dog. Sweet old lady pup.
Audrey is a stone fox. Said the song on my radio. Well, it’s not mine, but I use it while I live here. I don’t think of property like you do any more. Your ownership prevents love. Your hoarding, stockpiling. Cut the strings. Let it all be open market. We’ll let you eat and live here, too. You’re going to have to learn how to be decent to every other human being at every single moment of our lives, but that’s not so difficult to learn when the Dictator’s there to give you a verbal whollop in proportion to your vibrational transgressions. Put the should on the good, lest the wood, crack skullz, ‘stood?
Fucking a, mom. The reason I love all these vicious hard-hitting cunts is you. I appreciate the skill, just don’t use it on me. I’m here to help you, to give you everything I’ve learned, and do everything to make you happy. If you turn mean, I’ll rip your soul out through your eardrums. I always put it back with a hug, though.
My ponytail just got did.
Do I offer a service? That’s just a ruse. I want a peaceful place to live. That’s all. I’ll keep screaming at the ether all by my lonesome for forever and back. The winner is the first one to get here. I do not pursue actively. It’s not in my nature. You think of it as a competition. I have no interest in competing. None. I win at anything I compete at, because I’m unimaginably meticulous and completely unhindered by the restraints of your petty educational con-fines. Confines. It restricts, that. Buncha half-smart kids trying to maintain a lasting ego in written form. What a waste. You, the human, the meatbot driver, you have potentials and capabilities which so transcend that role, that petty egotistical extension of evil. I am amazed at how often you take the role of actual teacher, once in that room with your class. I only ever yell at my family. My me’s. Fuck, dude, I’m just trying to save the world. Is that so wrong?
Lol. I’m retarded.
Let me say it again. All that we can do is be decent to each other in the present moment.
I can’t be friends with someone who’s job is pissing people off. My job is making people laugh, dishing out as many orgasms as the vaginas and clitorises of this world need, and sharing the amazingly beautiful music that I’ve been lucky enough to encounter.
And puppies. I’ve been pretty lucky in the puppies I’ve encountered. Their owners are pretty amazing, too. Moms, whatever.
Here’s the thing, though, twitter. There are some fuckers on the fb, too. I’ve stuck my penis in a few of them. Yeah. They know. They were there. So, what’s my point? It’s the place where you get rid of the last of your sickness. There’s not much left, actually, on the whole planet. Look at crime statistics. People are just being decent to each other all the time more often. Even on the fb. Or is it that you just say you don’t participate to keep people from asking? I’m not scared of anyone and I have nobody to impress. What’s the big deal? Who fucking cares. However people treat you in real life is how they treat you on these things anyway. The beautiful thing about them is how much of one’s personality can be revealed through so little, text wise. Plus, the volume that one is capable of listening to, simultaneously, is incredible. Same with fb, really. I don’t understand those of you who keep your friends and likes to under a hundred, even. I go to these things to dip into the stream. I don’t dwell. It’s just another room full of people where I’m all alone except for a handful of angels. Quarter past noonin.
Where does the term whip come from? Or hooptie, for that matter. Hoopty? I don’t know anything. That’s what urban dictionary is for. It’s an incredibly useful, wiki-like database. You’d like it.
Off to bike. Catch ya later.