It's been one of those sequences where everything gets zetetic on the surrealism and blends in to make it look like it was just one long hurtful and pathetic statement. But that's okay. I am just one man and I can only deal with things a certain way. So in lieu of the poetics I would've committed to this fleeting landscape I will go the easy route and list what comes to mind as being honest and pure. Why? Well, cuz let's face it: there's only so much of your boss' bill you're gonna waste and there's only so much "humanity" I can digest. Not unlike my MySpace survey answers, here's a little honesty validated by the filter that I drink and with a few in me I am anybody's.
I like a good pickled turnip.
I enjoy the wares I taste.
I try to behave according to the mandated protocol.
I try to spell things correctly on the first try.
I love the people who matter.
I will listen to the Bad Brains in the morning and I will try to burden no sin.
I am the greatest.
I am the worst possible excuse.
I am something that got drug in by an indestructible soft automaton built for dealing when things go array in the domestic setting.
I thank Ambrose Bierce for having a mind to mislead.
I look forward to the tomb that knows no sound.
I welcome Eddie A. into the fold known as a "suicide of slow turners."
I live eternally in the summer of love.
I know when I've gone on for too long.
I say good-bye now because for some, it is a combination of three words that will make sense eventually.
Eventually we all answer to something.
I like how Buk put it: "Anybody can be a non-drunk, it takes a special kind of person to be a drunk."
I like Miranda July.
When I turn, I turn slowly.
Happy birthday Mels (reprise).
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