le ninety UN

its a mystery when my timebomb of successful nomadedness will surface. no sadness will trigger it, just curiosity and resources coming together in a cluster-spank of perfection. hawaii? that'd be sweet. anywhere warm. dallas gave me a taste of what was necessary for nighttime happiness. (up to this point let it be known any word that starts with 'W' must MUST must be pronounced the same way whiskey was pronounced by the hero of this modern saturday, andy samberg) and may it also be known my ambition for kidnapping has once again realigned with the non-violent measures of anyone who dares take more than 3 days off work. you will join me like it or not, preferably like so i don't end up with a grump. your allowed grumpyness for 3 hours, then pure joy must illuminate your face. kidnapping isn't the right word. i'd think trickery or mischief. be warned if you come to help me move. i've entered into cahoots with several members of the roofie club in detroit and they have hooked me up large. california. the visitation of my birthplace and dwelling place of my brothers from different mothers but their mother is the same as each others. its magical. (guster will remain number one road trip music for 3 am (AND you will hear me sing.)) because sometimes i choose to be awesome. theres intense freedom with nothing concrete. its all wet... babies harden my concrete. no babies. for at least... 5 years unless an accident happens. wedlock only. i'm going to go slam dunk blankets upon cold people.

dude i barely remember writing that

madness! chaos! unashamed love! giftedness... the clamor of my mind aches against the sounds of the future. i want to be a nomad.

toilets make intense music

consorting with the enemy eh? have at 'er. i know in the end he'll throw the rock that'll break your window of reflection and the shards will fall and pierce whatever dreams you had. i'm sick of seeing vanity everywhere i look. if i could destroy one thing right now it'd be anything shiny. maybe if we were all blind we'd know it doesn't matter at all what we look like. we'd dress to be comfortable, not so people would know what kind of status we hold or the significance of the event we were going too. there'd be a lot more cuddling and a lot less worry over what matches and who's set of fashion ideals are the most correct and up to date. black socks are for suckers. sure, if its your passion, go for it. enjoy it. live it up in the way you love. don't look at other people differently because they don't share your 'taste' in the fabric that keeps us from being naked. Jesus was purple ya'll.