here comes the train of thoughtcrime, one day ahead of schedule. chugga chugga fuckin' woo woo.

saturday afternoon. sitting next to a stapler that one could beat a man to death or at least terminal vegetation with.

the plan is to paint my claws and shave my stems later, proving gender issues the result of captive boredom.

(you know, because i can't find my way into some shoes and maybe socks, out the front door, onto apfel the bicycle, over the mountains and through the woods. THREE CHEERS FOR PREPOSITIONAL PHRASES! HEILHEILHEIL!)

anyway, i am looking forward to living on top of a red carpet next month. yes, it seems i pursued and leased a studio apartment on the basis of floor color. i am feeling very monetarily snug. forgot about those utility deposits and thanks to jesus being born, i'm missing over a week of work. good for stewing in my own juices, and as cityscapes (thick glossy and free magazine for the aspiring local bourgeois) says this month: "if you have a problem money can solve, you don't have a problem."

all humans are equal, but some are more equal than others. however, their equality is not determined by any of the crutches common to rabid eugenicists (admittedly including &rea's own passive-aggressive and deeply ingrained cunthate, which, sadly, has been internally justified or excused by its correspondingly vicious penis envy): race, creed, religion, SOCIAL CLASS. since this is not a utopian (from Greek: οὐ no, and τόπος, place, i.e. "no place" or "place that does not exist") and brave old world, there is not now nor in the foreseeable future an unbiased method of determining which specimens deserve to fill two parking places with their diesel magic carpets, fill their bellies with good food or any food (alright, so the US has a lot of portly working class and even homeless -- and it is wise indeed to keep them stuffed with cheap fats, salts, and processed sugar a.k.a. the other cocaine) stroll through granted mansions or pace in numbered shoeboxes (well grab your destiny, you stupid lazy laborers! any time you see fucking fit to give up your hobbies and low blood pressure, you can exchange days of your pitiful, "uneducated" existence in direct proportion of square feet! think of all the new angles to watch television from!) . . . fuck. experiencing some turbulence here. i don't how we are to make our grand economic exodus from this sick serfish game, so i shouldn't preach about these pipedreams.

. . . the only important point that i've derived from ingesting psychedelics (psychedelic drugs are psychoactive drugs whose primary action is to alter the thought processes of the brain. the term is derived from greek psyche, "mind" and delein, "to manifest", or delos, "beautiful".) is that it is crucial to abandon or radically organize these immense, rancid buildings. trapped in this elevated box, with hives of strangers extending above, below, and beside, borders perforated by screaming motorized traffic, what your mind is left to obsesses over are the thousands of tiny lumps in the "floor" which is clearly some anonymous someone's ceiling. or you can gaze out of any of the four windows at a precise mirror image of your own poverty. if one positions oneself just so on the futon, you can censor everything from the roof down -- ah, a few feet of pure, framed firmament.

the only healthy use i see for these buildings is to fill them with our fictive kin, annex them together, give them respective newspapers, garden plots, and abolish rent.

do they owe us a living? and how.

ah, how wonderful anarcho-socialism sounds on the paper of someone with an inability to respect or command authority or function socially.

luckily i live in a progressive bible belt. i was puzzled as to why the new bike paths "end" in parking lots until i realised that, actually, they begin there.

step one: buy shitty mountain bike at walmart.

step two: transport it in your escalade to quaint "downtown" and peddle lazily for half a mile.

step three: describe your lifestyle as "active."