To fed up to give a fuck, the fairer sex will drive you mad, amazing that i turned down the priesthood for a job as a postmodern light bulb changer, the demons all sing, they all dance, they call from the bar and the dealer, booze and gear, everyday i battle, battle to do something sober but tonight i lost and 3 pints of Guinness in 30 minutes and the mind suddenly feels just about right, sat on the hard concrete and watched a cigarette burn on the sidewalk, saw the shelf of clouds and missed the airplanes, sat on the concrete and felt the sting on my bony ass, soon i will undertake the task i set out to do, like Frodo leaving the shire i will produce this novel i so lovingly talk about, call me in 2009 i'll let you read it, it's one long hallucination about a man who would be fool, about a madman in a sea of madmen, a stylistic tour' de fart, a fucking joke with bad punctuation, a bit like what you read now, but it must be done in order to maintain order from the wine cellar of this mind, so buck up motherfuckers someday you will be entertained, until then watch movies, buy music, see live bands, fuck, drink, be merry, cuz i ain't worried about Eggers and the rest of the twats i've got confidence to spare and the debts to prove it, i'm gonna set the esteemed art and letters on it's ass or come off as a total fucking knob, but i'll grin and gurn and grind and gyrate the whole time for those few dollars stuffed lovingly and sparingly inside my lovely garter...
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
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1 comment:
I hear you typing, brother.
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