Sometimes i feel lost and i dunno why... on with it.
I got home from hanging out with Guey, was sitting on the couch, watching a Venture Bros. rerun, when i felt a really kinda powerfully sharp pain in the inner thigh of my right leg. Feeling around to investigate, i came across a bump.
Immediately the cancer centre in my brain went haywireTESTICULAR CANCER! IT'S TESTICULAR CANCER! DUDE, I TOLD YOU THAT LUMP ON YR LEG WAS BADBAAAAAAAAAD!
And i bought it. I panicked and thought that i had a big ol lump of testicular cancer on the inside of my thighfive inches away from my testiculars... er... testicals.
Then i thought boil.
Boil? Like the plague? Like in the bible? I think bible and i think lepers, boils and a burning bush.
So, to me, in my mind, since i think i have a boil, i also must have leprosy and syphilis.
Then i read:
Boil: a localized swelling and inflammation of the skin resulting from infection in a skin gland, having a hard central core, and forming pus
A gland in the inner thigh of my right leg? Of course, a skin gland. Like a sweat gland or something... right?
Or, wait, does that mean there's a horribly toxic element in my body? Maybe it's mumps or small pox. Possibly a curse... holy shit, i'm gonna die...well, die sooner than i would if i were to go naturally.
Then i look back at the definition of Boil and read that Pimple is a synonym for boil. And i feel like a complete douche.
And i'm still not feeling rather original... so...
Perry Como is singing "Up on the Housetop."
"There's hepatitis B," my mom says. To my dad, she
says, "What's the others?"
"Chlamydia," my father says. "And lymphogranulo-
ma."
"Yes," my mom says, "and mucal purulent cervicitis
and nongonococcal urethritis."
My dad looks at my mom and says, "But that's usually
caused by an allergy to a latex condom or a spermicide."
My mom drinks some coffee. She looks down at both
her hands around her cup, then looks up at me sitting
here. "What your father's trying to say," she says, "is we
realize now that we made some mistakes with your broth-
er." She says, "We're just trying to keep you safe."
There's a fourth box of condoms in my stocking. Perry
Como is singing "It Came upon a Midnight Clear." The
box is labeled. ..safe and strong enough even for prolonged
anal intercourse. ...
"There's granuloma inguinale," my father says to my
mother, "and bacterial vaginosis." He opens one hand and
counts the fingers, then counts them again, then says,
"there's molluscum contagiosum."
Some of the condoms are white. Some are assorted col-
ors. Some are ribbed to feel like serrated bread knives, I
guess. Some are extra large. Some glow in the dark. This
is flattering in a creepy way. My folks must think I'm
wildly popular.
--
I smoke so awkward, and I remember your blood, so toxic, and almonds, so sweet.
Theres something in this soft social gesture, weathering my deviceslike youre orange, and it makes me sick like the purple grapes from that one noon.
Like sweet almond.
My taste and smell are now dead, my sight's fractured, my memory is doctored--remember me like this.
I think of tomorrow because this is with me, and your face is running.
Your favorite, your eyes, the vibration losing space, slipping down, running away.
Smoke flowing adolescenceflorescent smokeessence of youth, youthful resistance, blowtorch omnipresence, and almonds.
Tan and two on the left, attendance failure, and you slipped it in so subtlyyou laughed, so i found it, you, with almonds.
I awoke with it, gnawing swollen, pecking my head. A sexual requiem with red cars wailing, another for the nightAsh masturbation.
Lay where my friends lay, so sadistic with almonds.
Sweet almonds it means nothing today so much as tomorrow.
My sleep patterns broken so help me shake this lapse in personal stability, a hairs reflection and inherent moral distortion.
Oral video incarnationsa vagabonds reactionI can remember a yesterday with strong communication, I remember drawing on sheets, the truth we scribbled in holes, and forgetting that tomorrow, but i can still remember the taste and smell of almonds.
**UPDATE**
Trying to light a cigarette with a freshly filled Zippo in any kind of breeze is so bloody hazardousit's a wonder that i still have facial hair.
When i'm over at S's i run on a broadband connection. Back at the house, i use dial-up. Which is slow as hell. I need to slam out that extra 10 duckets and get broadband. This is killing me. I do most of my interweb stuffs at my place, only use s's for downloading and uploading stuff, really.
Right now i'm updating Norton and it's taking way too bloody long... Damnit.
Boop.
I got home from hanging out with Guey, was sitting on the couch, watching a Venture Bros. rerun, when i felt a really kinda powerfully sharp pain in the inner thigh of my right leg. Feeling around to investigate, i came across a bump.
Immediately the cancer centre in my brain went haywireTESTICULAR CANCER! IT'S TESTICULAR CANCER! DUDE, I TOLD YOU THAT LUMP ON YR LEG WAS BADBAAAAAAAAAD!
And i bought it. I panicked and thought that i had a big ol lump of testicular cancer on the inside of my thighfive inches away from my testiculars... er... testicals.
Then i thought boil.
Boil? Like the plague? Like in the bible? I think bible and i think lepers, boils and a burning bush.
So, to me, in my mind, since i think i have a boil, i also must have leprosy and syphilis.
Then i read:
Boil: a localized swelling and inflammation of the skin resulting from infection in a skin gland, having a hard central core, and forming pus
A gland in the inner thigh of my right leg? Of course, a skin gland. Like a sweat gland or something... right?
Or, wait, does that mean there's a horribly toxic element in my body? Maybe it's mumps or small pox. Possibly a curse... holy shit, i'm gonna die...well, die sooner than i would if i were to go naturally.
Then i look back at the definition of Boil and read that Pimple is a synonym for boil. And i feel like a complete douche.
And i'm still not feeling rather original... so...
Perry Como is singing "Up on the Housetop."
"There's hepatitis B," my mom says. To my dad, she
says, "What's the others?"
"Chlamydia," my father says. "And lymphogranulo-
ma."
"Yes," my mom says, "and mucal purulent cervicitis
and nongonococcal urethritis."
My dad looks at my mom and says, "But that's usually
caused by an allergy to a latex condom or a spermicide."
My mom drinks some coffee. She looks down at both
her hands around her cup, then looks up at me sitting
here. "What your father's trying to say," she says, "is we
realize now that we made some mistakes with your broth-
er." She says, "We're just trying to keep you safe."
There's a fourth box of condoms in my stocking. Perry
Como is singing "It Came upon a Midnight Clear." The
box is labeled. ..safe and strong enough even for prolonged
anal intercourse. ...
"There's granuloma inguinale," my father says to my
mother, "and bacterial vaginosis." He opens one hand and
counts the fingers, then counts them again, then says,
"there's molluscum contagiosum."
Some of the condoms are white. Some are assorted col-
ors. Some are ribbed to feel like serrated bread knives, I
guess. Some are extra large. Some glow in the dark. This
is flattering in a creepy way. My folks must think I'm
wildly popular.
--
I smoke so awkward, and I remember your blood, so toxic, and almonds, so sweet.
Theres something in this soft social gesture, weathering my deviceslike youre orange, and it makes me sick like the purple grapes from that one noon.
Like sweet almond.
My taste and smell are now dead, my sight's fractured, my memory is doctored--remember me like this.
I think of tomorrow because this is with me, and your face is running.
Your favorite, your eyes, the vibration losing space, slipping down, running away.
Smoke flowing adolescenceflorescent smokeessence of youth, youthful resistance, blowtorch omnipresence, and almonds.
Tan and two on the left, attendance failure, and you slipped it in so subtlyyou laughed, so i found it, you, with almonds.
I awoke with it, gnawing swollen, pecking my head. A sexual requiem with red cars wailing, another for the nightAsh masturbation.
Lay where my friends lay, so sadistic with almonds.
Sweet almonds it means nothing today so much as tomorrow.
My sleep patterns broken so help me shake this lapse in personal stability, a hairs reflection and inherent moral distortion.
Oral video incarnationsa vagabonds reactionI can remember a yesterday with strong communication, I remember drawing on sheets, the truth we scribbled in holes, and forgetting that tomorrow, but i can still remember the taste and smell of almonds.
**UPDATE**
Trying to light a cigarette with a freshly filled Zippo in any kind of breeze is so bloody hazardousit's a wonder that i still have facial hair.
When i'm over at S's i run on a broadband connection. Back at the house, i use dial-up. Which is slow as hell. I need to slam out that extra 10 duckets and get broadband. This is killing me. I do most of my interweb stuffs at my place, only use s's for downloading and uploading stuff, really.
Right now i'm updating Norton and it's taking way too bloody long... Damnit.
Boop.
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have a good weekend.