Fuck a Jersey Cos I look good in my White Tee
I'm not very good at this hellyeah thing.
I apologize to anyone on my list I don't ever comment on. It's for your best interest, trust me.
I think I put a bit too much importance on the weight of what I say and spend too long on it, so basically in the end it comes off miles away from being what I am, which happens very often because there is no real Andy Kaufman.
Yes. So I decided that instead of trying to write something that I think might interest anyone or I don't know, I would just
a horse's genitals is like a dog's genitals a layer of skin attached to the stomach area usually covers the actual organ which extracts itself through excitement or irritation a man's cock just hangs there and extracts itself through excitement and irritation and it's summer. I should be sipping Leffe with a couple of people at a cafe somewhere.
J'ai oublié ce que je voulais dire.
a cat's cock is generally invisible unless aroused or pressed out or otherwise.
the observation of animals and insects procures me more pleasure than any other social activity and makes me want to die (sometimes)
Hygiene/Health:
I don't wash very often. I have holes in about 2/3 of my teeth. My spine is bent at a certain level, although this has been slightly fixed it has had time to upset my hip and make one of my legs somewhat shorter, nothing that appears to be noticeable though.
Also of note:
I used to have dreams in which I would just jump up and forward and the motion propelled me up in a way that allowed me to fly for a few metres, just a few feet over the ground. The only problem is that when I think about it I never recall these actually being precise dreams in particular, so for a while I grew to believe they were memories of me really flying although when I try to think of instances in which this would have happened, I do not remember any real occurrence. I still do believe a little bit deep inside my head that somewhere between dream and real life I flew.
Colin Wilson wrote in one of his books of a poet who described flying himself in a moment of pure elation, and that resembled what I remember.
Why is life not like a turkish exploitation movie from the seventies? Because I have practiced that real hard, I know how to mangle the big bears with their own arms and things like that.
The past few weeks:
- I have seen Robert de Niro (from very far)
- I have been to London and bought books, Mutants by Armand Marie Leroi (very good), an english translation of Les Chants de Maldoror + Poésies by Isidore Ducasse aka Lautréamont (basically my fabourite book in the universe, as a present for my girlfriend. and I will always get the urge to kill anyone who ever says "the beginning of surrealism?" about this book like the first reviewer on this page), and Crime and Punishment, the Idiot and Notes from the Underground
- I have done other things too
- I have done nothing too.
Fuck it.
I apologize to anyone on my list I don't ever comment on. It's for your best interest, trust me.
I think I put a bit too much importance on the weight of what I say and spend too long on it, so basically in the end it comes off miles away from being what I am, which happens very often because there is no real Andy Kaufman.
Yes. So I decided that instead of trying to write something that I think might interest anyone or I don't know, I would just
a horse's genitals is like a dog's genitals a layer of skin attached to the stomach area usually covers the actual organ which extracts itself through excitement or irritation a man's cock just hangs there and extracts itself through excitement and irritation and it's summer. I should be sipping Leffe with a couple of people at a cafe somewhere.
J'ai oublié ce que je voulais dire.
a cat's cock is generally invisible unless aroused or pressed out or otherwise.
the observation of animals and insects procures me more pleasure than any other social activity and makes me want to die (sometimes)
Hygiene/Health:
I don't wash very often. I have holes in about 2/3 of my teeth. My spine is bent at a certain level, although this has been slightly fixed it has had time to upset my hip and make one of my legs somewhat shorter, nothing that appears to be noticeable though.
Also of note:
I used to have dreams in which I would just jump up and forward and the motion propelled me up in a way that allowed me to fly for a few metres, just a few feet over the ground. The only problem is that when I think about it I never recall these actually being precise dreams in particular, so for a while I grew to believe they were memories of me really flying although when I try to think of instances in which this would have happened, I do not remember any real occurrence. I still do believe a little bit deep inside my head that somewhere between dream and real life I flew.
Colin Wilson wrote in one of his books of a poet who described flying himself in a moment of pure elation, and that resembled what I remember.
Why is life not like a turkish exploitation movie from the seventies? Because I have practiced that real hard, I know how to mangle the big bears with their own arms and things like that.
The past few weeks:
- I have seen Robert de Niro (from very far)
- I have been to London and bought books, Mutants by Armand Marie Leroi (very good), an english translation of Les Chants de Maldoror + Poésies by Isidore Ducasse aka Lautréamont (basically my fabourite book in the universe, as a present for my girlfriend. and I will always get the urge to kill anyone who ever says "the beginning of surrealism?" about this book like the first reviewer on this page), and Crime and Punishment, the Idiot and Notes from the Underground
- I have done other things too
- I have done nothing too.
Fuck it.