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2/16/23
Euglossa Bazinga
I once met a stripper named "Cinnamon" who after we were introduced and then me immediatly asking if she had a daughter named Toast and a son named Crunch? QUICKITYY-CLACKED over to a bouncer, tapped him on the shoulder and yelled in his ear, "I'm down with dances, right? With EVERYONE tonight, you know?......AND THEN POINTED RIGHT AT ME - "Everyone but...Big Bang Theory over there. Yeah Super Star Trek and shit, nope." She then slowly smoothed her hair with her palm click clack click clacked over to a table where a couple of fat guys wearing prescription sunglasses sat smoothing out invisble wrinkles out of their patterned silk pants.
9/06/22
8/24/22
6/08/22
HOW DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?
I was going to show Beezus my Instacart order from today that did not get placed because of Universe Butt.
5/28/22
10/12/21
Stargazing...
I really
don't want
to write anything right now
because sometimes when I write
it makes my eyebrows hurt.
10/11/21
“My mother's suffering grew into a symbol in my mind, gathering to itself all the poverty, the ignorance, the helplessness; the painful, baffling, hunger-ridden days and hours; the restless moving, the futile seeking, the uncertainty, the fear, the dread; the meaningless pain and the endless suffering. Her life set the emotional tone of my life, colored the men and women I was to meet in the future, conditioned my relation to events that had not yet happened, determined my attitude to situations and circumstances I had yet to face. A somberness of spirit that I was never to lose settled over me during the slow years of my mother's unrelieved suffering, a somberness that was to make me stand apart and look upon excessive joy with suspicion, that was to make me keep forever on the move, as though to escape a nameless fate seeking to overtake me.
At the age of twelve, before I had one year of formal schooling, I had a conception of life that no experience would ever erase, a predilection for what was real that no argument could ever gainsay, a sense of the world that was mine and mine alone, a notion as to what life meant that no education could ever alter, a conviction that the meaning of living came only when one was struggling to wring a meaning out of meaningless suffering.At the age of twelve I had an attitude toward life that was to endure, that was to make me seek those areas of living that would keep it alive, that was to make me skeptical of everything while seeking everything, tolerant of all and yet critical. The spirit I had caught gave me insight into the sufferings of others, made me gravitate toward those whose feelings were like my own, made me sit for hours while others told me of their lives, made me strangely tender and cruel, violent and peaceful.
It made me want to drive coldly to the heart of every question and it open to the core of suffering I knew I would find there. It made me love burrowing into psychology, into realistic and naturalistic fiction and art, into those whirlpools of politics that had the power to claim the whole of men's souls. It directed my loyalties to the side of men in rebellion; it made me love talk that sought answers to questions that could help nobody, that could only keep alive in me that enthralling sense of wonder and awe in the face of the drama of human feeling which is hidden by the external drama of life.”
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