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Sunday, July 12, 2009

there's a rabbit in my carrot soup

There's something wrong with this planet. Really fuckin' harrid and shite. I'm disgusted by it. I can't live here. You can't live here. It aint' fit for the diseased geese, nor the happy children. It aint fit for my own bowel movements. It's caught the aids it has. It's fucked us all triply over and out and got the aids. I'm eating this peanut butter crunch cereal with milk. the milk lads, its damn white its so white it's blinding me. and my cat. my cat goes crazy over it. this thing. this creature. right next to me. trying to down my cereal. this world is lost its brains during the first world war and it keeps getting duller. the brain of the world, it's all grey gooble now. its a scrambled mess and god if he exists sneezed it all out years ago. so we invent the internet. and we invent television. and we invent fuckin kitty kats to amuse ourselves and jobs to dull the numbness and music to distract us from the dissipating dark, and the damn chinese with their money so we could buy useless shit, to feel even more useless because of having to choose which shit to buy in accordance with the socio-economics scheme kissinger came up with. yea nash and his game theory and einstein and his relativity and kafka with his cockroach and all of it don't mean shit. it don't mean a bleedin' fuckin thing mate. You can bust your head against a stone your whole life, just keep bustin and throwin the whole weight of yerself against it, hopin for some redemption, some salvation, some transcendence into some other Sphere, some Plateau of alternate reality where ya shit golden piss and your blood tastes like cherries. and that stone could be yer goals. or yer parents' expectations. or your kids that ya shat out somehow and now have to feed. and it could be your nobility or the remnant of your past. It could be anything mate, and it would reach the same damn result. Faulker came to that conclusion. Sartre did as well. And now ALAM has come to that conclusion. nothing matters. nothing friggin matters. the world is as pointless as a zebra spotted pink bikini-wearing clown spraying ketchup at beach sand. the only thing really, that Could possibly, at least Move that stone, at least illude your brain into Thinking that it moved, is Love.

Love love love love love that pure damn thing that most people reach for and just keel over themselves kissing the smoggy oozy waste on their arses. love that lifts yer up. love that knocks you flat on your bones. digs into yer like roots at the moss. that kinda romeo and juliet greatest love story of all time love. ye it exists mate. it exists and i'll fuckin yell it in yer faces that it exists cuz I felt it. I had the damn thing. And I lost it, like jello.

cuz I'm a damn moron. an idiot.

it don't matter. it don't matter because I'll just put on my orange jumpsuit and fly out this window.

and my cat will finish my peanut butter cereal and


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