Cryptic posts, they don’t stop, I have little time for that sort of slop but what little time I have I devote it thoroughly to this activity not quite so surly. Tell me how I’ve made a mistake if such things help me make the time pass when the time is so slow that things that normally would make me drop to my knees and pray have me now communicating my disarray to people as well as God in an international internet communication crypto-comm mission. Yeah, I said it, and believe me it’s not as fun as fishing and that shit is fucking boring isn’t it? Whether we agree is no issue to me, so let me go on to the next issue, buddy, a family issue. Aren’t those the funnest, and fuck your grammar, buddy, and aren’t those the ones that tear your heart, aren’t they funny?
Tell me why every day some new pressure must mount as if the totals were not building up as high as mount everest on this amount, and for that matter, on this account I’ve actually been free of a charge, so judge me not, my peoples, whoever you are these days, I don’t even care– not to mention _know_. So fuck your presence intermittent and uncommitted, fuck a phantom that displays pixel passions, the type that has me gnashing my teeth in hell when life is somewhere on the level of purgatory, a constant slog story. Where is the gun, where are my balls, where is my(the) temple? Where is my shrink, right?
As far as I remember, I retired the bitch and made her go chill on some APA retreat where they talk about the endless minotaur maze that is the mind, making no progress because those with the degrees are just a degree less lost than the rest of us as far as these issues are concerned. And yes, I know the statistics and I know what comes with it, and I’ve read what is supposed to be proper these days, and I still feel like I’m lost in the maze, so what the hell?
No one is expected to explain, though the ones with the alpha status are allowed to make some noise but up until a point because even the lowest on the pecking order know how to raise their nose up towards the sky, blue blood and all, sitting on a cracked, stiff wooden chair, thinking it’s a throne, looking out for their human rights on the screen of their mobile phone, calling the politeness police, thinking this shit is cease and decease but it isn’t and it never will be when passions are raised towards Hades or Olympus since the time is drawing nearer towards that date when things will be coated in sugar and plums, pie and baklava’s, when there will be little time left for that last gasp of those who make a pass, assuming such exist, which at this point is not an issue except a for that always ready cocked fist.
So how about chillin’ out?
How about it?
Well, this is a cryptic post so I take my liberties with and for it.
So uckFay ouYay, itchBay, uvenileJay eelingsFay ANDay ALLay.
