The morning breaks. Dem' da mornin' breaks. Ouch. Gotta get up. Get out take the flails of the world. The clank of gears getting back to grinding action. Who knew that waking up could feel so sluggish? Like a beer battered french fry. Ughh downed with beer. I wake up drunk. I wake up slow. The flashes of consciousness expand and contract. Ugh greasy grease. I want to be a free flowing happy machine. But this is not in the cards. Not yet. Maybe someday. I feel this part of me in flashes but I want to work as a full time jab. The morning breaks these patterns of thoughts, dreams, empty stomachs. Even though I ate some beef and beans late last night. They were slow cooked in chipotle/lime sauce. I threw in some red onion, some tomato sauce, and some additional chipotle sauce from another bottle to spread it out. Cover more beef and beans. Able to eat for a 3 days on that bad boy mix. Not to bad if I say so myself, I say. I say. I say. Chicken would be nicely slow cooked in that because you see the beef I was using was garlic roast beef made for sandwiches and what not. Not large pieces of beef chucks which would been perfection. Or chunks of chicken. I guess my issue for perfection is just how the meat was cut. Slice versus chunk and I wanted to get chunky with it.
Na-nah Na-nah na-na-nah
Na-nah Na-nah na-na-nah
Getting bit of an upset stomach right now with it. Ugh. Maybe its the green protein nutrient drink I had for the the third time in three days. Maybe its the ghee butter. Clarified butter. Aka butter that has been boiled and then the dairy froth scooped off. But there is other ways to make ghee. Ghee can have curds mixed into it making it very dairy? I think Curds are cheesey must be that milky milk substance in it. This ghee melts clear and therefore its is clarified butter with no dairy. It also say clarified butter under ghee. So thats something. Anyways maybe feeling like shit and drinking hot butter is making feel sick to my stomach.
I squeeze my crossed legs together and feel my slightly shaven nutsack prickle into itself and my legs. It feels good and slightly itchy at the same time. I wonder how short you can cut you pubic region without it itching.
Ahhchee wah wah. Wa-Wahh. The name given to me by Principal Dan. Meaning surprised in Cree. What a surprise I am to myself. Always wa-wahing myself into a dizzy. What will my unconcious bubble up forth next time. Something I am beginning to love in myself. Them surprises. Especially enjoy it when I surprise myself connecting all the dots of a mystery and come to a new understanding. Makes me feel not dumb. Braindead. Turned off. Like my mind still youthful and not shot to shit. Hope. It is still happening. These thing keeps a-trucking. Moving along. Growing in ways I did not think were possible or continue after certain point in life. But fuck that. The brain is plastic, moveable, and changeable and the spirit is eternal and therefore I should be able to manipulate the structure for suitable learning until the day I die and head off into that spirit in the sky. Imma gonna go to the place thats the best.
My face feels like a cartoon vacuum and yank down and sucked. Pulled to parts unknown. Undertaking my face into the grave. A grave look imagine but the reality is probably that I just look high. A fart slips out of my butt as I type and it stinks. Its got a thickness to it. Possibly a side effect of beef beans chipotle. It warmed my cool inner cheeks for a brief moment that is gone and then I reminded of the continue chill in my room. The vent blows cold air directly to my table which cannot be moved due to the location of the router for the internet and all the other desks in the room. Internet wins yes. I got a great connection here. Relatively speaking. Its great for this small town. But this small town has one of the slowest internet connections in North American. Regardless, I'm fucking lucky to have internet and room to be in. But putting on cool air through vents during -40 C temperatures in February in North Western Ontario seems idiotic.
I don't want this day to start. I want to crawl back into bed and curl into a ball. I feel like a heroin junkie or my idea of a heroin junkie. On that stuff. On that smack. On that junk. I feel on that.
My ears click with the sticking and unsticking of ear wax.
I yawn with a tumbleweed brain being pushed along currently with a slight breeze. More of a smog. I want to smash my head against the table. I feel like piss. Pisssing. Pissing this shit out of me. Continue forth and go with it motherfucka. Ride that rind. Split that peach with a pencil. Write down what you will. The geysers will spray forth with such power and indignation that the follies of pure rot begin to dry out the communities with huge and lofty ideas. This is just pure ramble gamble of the sort. I want to make that clear. I push forward with rambles and try to lasso those wild horses that pour out of my mind. Maybe there is gold in that. Maybe I there is nothing at all. But it feels fun to write with an outpouring. I want to be able to write in that way. That way that reminds me of Henry Miller. I want to be like Henry Miller in that style. Enjoying myself as I go.