I have run aground. It seems with all the insanity in the world, I can not figure out a good topic in which to address. There are a multitude of swine out there waiting to be addressed. But whowho would be so intensely available to flex mind-numbing words with? Without a noble target, I shall focus on an event each day
THE BOOK STORE
I have lost the ability to banterto toss vicious words at will is a true art form. I no longer have my musegone. I am fighting with myselfDon't leave again I argue within my bored mind. I have left once in search of the AMERICAN DREAM I have read about so many timesmomentary success. I found associates with who I could swell beverages and ramble. But after realizing the initial step of my voyage was just a first step, I needed to return and produce a base camp, arrange my ammunition, and just now am I able to proceedI do have a plannot a FIVE year plan (that is to be a live and not imprisoned in any way), but a plan of assault on this god forsake world. Step one Employment: CHECKI can fool people's belief of a man with a job is responsible. Next I would need company and practice the arts.
In returning to the negative five degree world of the north, the brain appears to have stalledfrozen perhaps. Maybe it's the lack of word-pugilists I once found in abundance. Where could have they gonea journey of their own? If so, I tip the cap and wish them the best on their endeavor. Those savages have left me nakedalone to fend for myself in this god awful place with not one person to converse.
Where do the social misfits hide? The local bookstore was a startintellectuals I figured. Once inside the buyer's paradise I found myself surrounded by Mocha-Chi-Tea Cappuccino swelling cookie cuttersreading nonsense while pretending to peruse paperbacks written in gibberish. Trendy folk acting the partengulfed in a novel of trash. I could not break their code. Attempts to simulate them would not be an option. I ordered a coffee and found myself under firecoffee black is extinct. It must have a five word title. I will not even discuss the ordering of beverage size.SMALL, MEDIUM, LARGE are dead too.
In the catacombs I myself went in search of bad taste, my own garbage read. It was hard to do since a mass majority of the books are only accepted in the shop if it has the stamp of approval from Oprah. Can she not keep her hands to her selftrashing book covers with her mark? Jesus, Leave the fucking cover alone. I guess her minions would become illiterate without it. Up and down, no onecollege kids in the chairs pretending to be scholars, high schoolers flanking them pretending to be college kids. WHO created these animals? Did I miss the movement, is it to late to become brain dead?
BUZZ, I received phone communication from Captain Spotts, an old associate of mine who too was in search of the American Dreamhe even went KINKY politically and is well on his way. After moments of our jibber, I found myself under the gun once againmotions to be quiet came from some of the chairs. Quick thinking...I responded in proper form. After all, three well place fuck-yous and a middle-finger goes along way. "This is not a fucking library sister."
I grabbed STEADMAN and made a mad motion for the doorI needed to escape from the reader's war. I must find sanctuarya Hearth.food, swill, and dreams that cover events which are surely never going to occur. HOW WOULD I PAY THAT BILLIncredible.
THE BOOK STORE
I have lost the ability to banterto toss vicious words at will is a true art form. I no longer have my musegone. I am fighting with myselfDon't leave again I argue within my bored mind. I have left once in search of the AMERICAN DREAM I have read about so many timesmomentary success. I found associates with who I could swell beverages and ramble. But after realizing the initial step of my voyage was just a first step, I needed to return and produce a base camp, arrange my ammunition, and just now am I able to proceedI do have a plannot a FIVE year plan (that is to be a live and not imprisoned in any way), but a plan of assault on this god forsake world. Step one Employment: CHECKI can fool people's belief of a man with a job is responsible. Next I would need company and practice the arts.
In returning to the negative five degree world of the north, the brain appears to have stalledfrozen perhaps. Maybe it's the lack of word-pugilists I once found in abundance. Where could have they gonea journey of their own? If so, I tip the cap and wish them the best on their endeavor. Those savages have left me nakedalone to fend for myself in this god awful place with not one person to converse.
Where do the social misfits hide? The local bookstore was a startintellectuals I figured. Once inside the buyer's paradise I found myself surrounded by Mocha-Chi-Tea Cappuccino swelling cookie cuttersreading nonsense while pretending to peruse paperbacks written in gibberish. Trendy folk acting the partengulfed in a novel of trash. I could not break their code. Attempts to simulate them would not be an option. I ordered a coffee and found myself under firecoffee black is extinct. It must have a five word title. I will not even discuss the ordering of beverage size.SMALL, MEDIUM, LARGE are dead too.
In the catacombs I myself went in search of bad taste, my own garbage read. It was hard to do since a mass majority of the books are only accepted in the shop if it has the stamp of approval from Oprah. Can she not keep her hands to her selftrashing book covers with her mark? Jesus, Leave the fucking cover alone. I guess her minions would become illiterate without it. Up and down, no onecollege kids in the chairs pretending to be scholars, high schoolers flanking them pretending to be college kids. WHO created these animals? Did I miss the movement, is it to late to become brain dead?
BUZZ, I received phone communication from Captain Spotts, an old associate of mine who too was in search of the American Dreamhe even went KINKY politically and is well on his way. After moments of our jibber, I found myself under the gun once againmotions to be quiet came from some of the chairs. Quick thinking...I responded in proper form. After all, three well place fuck-yous and a middle-finger goes along way. "This is not a fucking library sister."
I grabbed STEADMAN and made a mad motion for the doorI needed to escape from the reader's war. I must find sanctuarya Hearth.food, swill, and dreams that cover events which are surely never going to occur. HOW WOULD I PAY THAT BILLIncredible.