on why the truth hurts.
9/4/2010
is a date that's needs to be recorded in my life just like every other day i went through the same apathetic rituals i do every day in the same order.
I start by hauling my creaking wooden frame from the sea of dreams onto the beach through waves of waking ,
wash the salt from my timbers and pick off the parasites that may-of burrowed themselves into overhangs and gulleys of my empty coconut skull,
i clean my teeth where i am most exposed to the optimism of consumerism, with the shiny sparkly magic Colgate tube ejaculates sparkling crystalline embedded diamonds with added fluoride on to my well worn old red toothbrush.
varnish the deck with an cloth and empty the bilge traps
make coffee/tea (variation depends on intended out comes for the day)
start a small fire in the garden, force the fire to fight for oxygen inhale toxic fumes
put on ill fitting uniform
after all of this is done depending on the responsibility's for the day I either have a good breakfast or a quick one.
on a side note I like most dreamers are afflicted with gluttony, I try in the most inappropriate moments to squeeze in a good breakfast. when I say good, I usually mean not a healthy piece of grape fruit and some muesli, which is a graceful breakfast. I mean the type of breakfast that will shave off a bit of your life.
after eating I sat down in the lounge and had a chat with my father. this is where the incident which has caused me to write all of this occurred.
the conversation flowed and the recent Hollywood block buster Avatar bobbed up like a yellow plastic barrel attached to a great white.
this then dived through a plane of glass dodging the massive explosion of kaka that was star war a phantom menace which promptly filled the room like a elephants enema. as the steam settled from the avalanche of shit , a small voice was heard coming from behind the sofa, my mother stood up proudly. she appeared to be unmarked from the shitty shitness of that shitty film. there she stood with a insane look in her eyes she turned to me and said these words
"i liked jarjar binks"
i looked at my father, who, much like I was up to his neck in the stinking fetid cack of the phantom menace his expression was that of dismissive shock, i turn my head to my mother i wished to free my self from the shit cocoon i found myself in. the problem was, the tried and tested method of shoving the shit of the phantom menace onto others to free yourself was not working. as much as I threw none seemed to stick. it flew past her never hitting home. I on the other hand still had the burden. I gave up and resigned myself back to carting the shit of the phantom menace around for the rest of the day. she then spoke again
"do you want to know why i like JarJar binks,"
i put down my wheel barrow of gorge Lucas manure for a second. my curiosity had been picked
"go on"
i cautiously responded
"your not going to like it"
she retorted
"do tell"
i tried to hide my interest
"well"
a pause
"i liked JarJar binks because he reminds me of you"
.........
i was in shock, is this true ??? AM I JAR JAR BINKS!!! AM I JAR JAR BINKS!!!
HOLY SHIT I AM JAR JAR BINKS
http://www.nooooooooooooooo.com/
is a date that's needs to be recorded in my life just like every other day i went through the same apathetic rituals i do every day in the same order.
I start by hauling my creaking wooden frame from the sea of dreams onto the beach through waves of waking ,
wash the salt from my timbers and pick off the parasites that may-of burrowed themselves into overhangs and gulleys of my empty coconut skull,
i clean my teeth where i am most exposed to the optimism of consumerism, with the shiny sparkly magic Colgate tube ejaculates sparkling crystalline embedded diamonds with added fluoride on to my well worn old red toothbrush.
varnish the deck with an cloth and empty the bilge traps
make coffee/tea (variation depends on intended out comes for the day)
start a small fire in the garden, force the fire to fight for oxygen inhale toxic fumes
put on ill fitting uniform
after all of this is done depending on the responsibility's for the day I either have a good breakfast or a quick one.
on a side note I like most dreamers are afflicted with gluttony, I try in the most inappropriate moments to squeeze in a good breakfast. when I say good, I usually mean not a healthy piece of grape fruit and some muesli, which is a graceful breakfast. I mean the type of breakfast that will shave off a bit of your life.
after eating I sat down in the lounge and had a chat with my father. this is where the incident which has caused me to write all of this occurred.
the conversation flowed and the recent Hollywood block buster Avatar bobbed up like a yellow plastic barrel attached to a great white.
this then dived through a plane of glass dodging the massive explosion of kaka that was star war a phantom menace which promptly filled the room like a elephants enema. as the steam settled from the avalanche of shit , a small voice was heard coming from behind the sofa, my mother stood up proudly. she appeared to be unmarked from the shitty shitness of that shitty film. there she stood with a insane look in her eyes she turned to me and said these words
"i liked jarjar binks"
i looked at my father, who, much like I was up to his neck in the stinking fetid cack of the phantom menace his expression was that of dismissive shock, i turn my head to my mother i wished to free my self from the shit cocoon i found myself in. the problem was, the tried and tested method of shoving the shit of the phantom menace onto others to free yourself was not working. as much as I threw none seemed to stick. it flew past her never hitting home. I on the other hand still had the burden. I gave up and resigned myself back to carting the shit of the phantom menace around for the rest of the day. she then spoke again
"do you want to know why i like JarJar binks,"
i put down my wheel barrow of gorge Lucas manure for a second. my curiosity had been picked
"go on"
i cautiously responded
"your not going to like it"
she retorted
"do tell"
i tried to hide my interest
"well"
a pause
"i liked JarJar binks because he reminds me of you"
.........
i was in shock, is this true ??? AM I JAR JAR BINKS!!! AM I JAR JAR BINKS!!!
HOLY SHIT I AM JAR JAR BINKS
http://www.nooooooooooooooo.com/
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