I'm Not Your Astronaut

Oh Christ what's he on about this time? this is completely rhetorical of course because this is nothing if not a one way conversation with myself, like any good recluse i'm not out to make friends and hence suddenly i feel like banging on the keys, been doing it alot and been slowly building posts when i'm supposed to be working on this other project but as we all know i love to sabotage myself, love to fucking fuck off, it's a talent, a serious lack of drive and ambition, you see i've never wanted to be famous or talk to the famous or even be in the same room as a celebrity, i mean shit they're only people and my massive fucking sense of self importance tells me that they're probably shite and that's if i can be bothered with them at all dig? and you see this is different for me cuz i never used to build anything, i just used to let it rip, no thinking, no planning and so this new way is totally foreign to me...

Of course i still don't put any thinking or planning into it, fuck, i'm to fucked half the time by the time it comes to wander the dimly lit streets of the suburbs, besides there is nowhere to fucking go, in the old days i had a destination, a coffee shop with hipster kids manning the espresso machines, i'd walk by massage parlors and bars and bodegas and bakeries, now? there is nothing but the sweet sound of the ebb and flow of suburban traffic... and that is alright, but back to this famous thing, i dont' give a fuck about the famous cuz i was famous (wait didn't this asshole just contradict himself?), albeit in maybe three neighborhoods in the east end of my fair burgh but famous nonetheless, i understand the trappings and the privileges, i was the patron saint of strippers, the guy who the guys in the band wanted to talk to, not any famous ones of course just the local ones, the bartenders of many bars and i were on a first name basis, i was the fucking King of North Oakland and that was all well and good but now that is gone and i'm very happy about that, when i think of how many times i should be dead or all the dumb things i used to do i can only smile and take a big, fat, breath of fresh air, wiggle my fucking toes and watch the icicles melting thinking that i'm one lucky bastard...

And since i don't have anywhere to walk anymore i usually just pace, sometimes i wander from room to room in my house, usually half-out of my skull on my favorite sweeties, of course sweeties have side effects and the best way to get a good night sleep when they run out is take other ones, like the ones mentioned in this song, hell i vaguely remember my wasted youth, used to get Xany Bars, yes it sounds like a fucking candy bar but for the uninitiated they are four Xanax all neatly stuck together and easily breakable into your next dose, that is of course if you don't just wash it down in one gulp with a beer and of course in my youth i did this all the time, i dubbed it "The Pissing Myself" phase, woke up many a morning after pouring down endless amounts of booze and munching Xany Bars all night to a wet bed or couch or floor or wherever i may have passed out, ah yes so fucking comatose you didn't even know you were pissing yourself, i could go on all night about the number of times i pissed but i've got other topics to cover like? I dunno?

But what this really is is fucking non-sense, just a little exercise in the old days and sitting down and banging away at the first thing that comes to mind, i read some thing about writing prompts and was like what the fuck is that? do people actually do this? i laughed and strolled one toke over the line with my good friend sweet Jesus, hence the fucking typos, if someone needs a prompt to fucking do this then i thinks they should find another fucking hobby, vocation, masturbation what not, but hey that's just my lack of drive and ambition talking (remember them), i'm just some formerly famous hoodlum who used to piss himself alot, what the fuck would i know about anything really? I'm entertaining myself Hank so get fucked will ya? and so it goes and so it goes...