I’m taking a dive into the bottle of eau de cologne that is my twinkling, bejewelled soul. It is the end of the summer… the end of speedy deliveries, clandestine affairs, midnight drag races, wandering incoherent in the brush, cozy outdoor nudity, runny pudding, passing out on some door stoop and ox roasts.
My Gog, it seems like only yesterday that it was yesterday; I haven’t navel gazed in at least a month, and my vacation in Orlando, Florida, was filled with meat and water… overall, I’ve been very good. Yes, there has been a tragedy recently, but I’ve wisely channeled all my extra “cumbersome” energies into voodoo.
I spend my time timing myself, and, I must say, the time does not go as fast as most people seem to think. I wish I could save time in a time released capsule. By Gog, I’d hit my stride then!
I feast in one breath and famine in the next as much as you, o brother/sister, of the sandwich generation.
I have played many magical tricks on myself (and you too, but you were too far away to notice… or were you?!? Believe it or not?!?).
I have been craving baby food and my daddy supplies my needs… he spoon feeds my sopping little dupa and wipes my mushy pie-hole- sometimes he fills it with round things. I have so much love to give and plan to give it away at a premium to a whole “new” set of numb-nuts. Loathing Out Loud.
He’s worked me into being Columbus’ most interesting new DIAL-A-DATE. To achieve this end, he simply crushed my spirit like a can of Budweiser. Fortunately, I’ve increased my appetite for crow and am following a strict scoured tuna, celery and water “regimen.” And coke. Just a little dab’ll do me 50 times a day.
OTHER FACTS AND POINTS OF INTEREST:
My antenna is hell-bent; it radiates bluegrass-gospel-music and anime porno. My subconscious oozes with tentacles. The door is always revolving in this town, on this street, in this room.
I still love the Ink Spots.
Out of my belly flows living water
So be it with you my love. May Gog blarss you.