i'm kind of having writer's block. write about that, you say? but its so very hard to type. concentrate, m. concentrato. concentrating. so. here goes: humpty dumpty is sitting on the fucking wall, people. get fucking over it.
now, i can't help but think that if i had glasses i know what i'd do. i'd drink beer with the boys knowing it's waiting for me to come home.
tell me - that made just as much sense as that beyonce chick's song does, did it not? hmm. that's what i thought too.
zing! revelsign made her first sasta.
relaxing hair should be allowed time for sleeping.
do you know that feeling? that weird feeling, like one of those people who'll wake up at the end of a hangover and look out at the ruins of the night that had just transpired? this blog post will be the ruins of my current little voyage, trip, voieee-ahhhhge as we may be so kind to call it, to the limits of outer fucking space.
now blue. then red maybe tinged it all! ting ting ting.
humpty dumpty my good friend.
in your shiny whiteness, and neatly combed hair, i see an evocative snapshot of our generation. cold. confused, going around in circles. white. trying to find purity. crazy, rolling around roiling on the inside, but hard, smooth, perfect on the outside? sometimes we roll / let the crazy break through. some people spend their whole lives rolling / being crazy. Mr.egg and humanity's generation X, unite.
WOW. what generation are we in anyway? you remember reading vaguely about gen X people, a while ago. were we them? are we us? genX? genY? is. there. a. gen. Z?!!?
these are all things to ponder, people. this is truth speaking. no lies. i'm not blogging for any of you. there are no readers in mind. i don't give a rat's ass if no one but me reads this post, that's how i blogged. i wrote down pure, untempered thoughts. ting a ting me for that, if you want. but that's how it's goin' down. snap.
now that that business is over: let us proceed, Lord Denning MR. he who shall never be reincarnated after they get one o' those fancy little supreme courts in that country. don't worry. i'll still make you pea soup.
an ending, an ending.
humpty dumpty sat on the wall eating a nice little brunch. he ignored all the naysayers, the disbelievers, the haggles, the critics who said - HE CAN'T SIT ON THE WALL WITHOUT FALLING! - and he sat. he sat and took out his egg sandwich (that's disturbing m, in your thoughts dreamy imagination thing humpty dumpty is a cannibal! smushy egg yolk, crumble, chew.) (wow, i used/am using round brackets instead of the little triangular dealies i usually go for) (wow, are three clauses in parentheses right next to each other allowed? what does it all mean? is it a revolution for english grammar? a sentence structure that no one has thought of before? a new possibility. when do we get to see that in this lifetime, folks? (girl sitting behind is singing. slip. dance floor. naked? ooh. no. hat.)) and he ate it like there was no tomorrow, folks. he was dignified. he brushed his mustache with his napkin and brushed the crumbs off his lap. he ignored the shouts of all those crazy people telling him to come down. their worry, their unecessary anxiety. when he was done, and only when he was done - he packed away his lunch box. readjusted his tie. and climbed steadily down the wall. reached the ground. patted his head. and walked off into the sunset.
so i guess what i'm saying is - the moral of this story / the point of this blog / the motto for YOUR life should be (shout it to the rooftops):
humpty dumpty is sitting on the wall people. get fucking over it. (or perhaps 'fucking get over it'? i don't know either way, your choice. make selection clear when filing purchase order.)
currently: clearly something is happening. quick! duck! a return of bananas and the dolphingium! no! you already said goodbye and thanks for all the fish! grr. i hate a dolphin that goes back on its word.
listening: a bit of something, fan-like, nail against keyboard. (mehhh says girl sitting in back.) well, there you go people.
life as i currently know it.