I don’t take titles too seriously

This (Blog – i hate that word) is a bad place. if it had a smell it would be that seaweed/muck smell at the shallow end of Twin Lakes. Negative energy breeding, just creating more worms on a plate. More of me talking to myself. Awesome. (I guess that means I’m strong.)More of me running chasing temporary highs. Highs ARE temporary, though. So, psh, why so surprised, ChickenPie? Sometimes it’s all in a stick of gum. Or a train ride. I only like four things in the whole world and I keep them all in this tiny wine bottle, see? Makes my escape less noticable. My Fuck-up less noticable. Things will change, but things are currently too busy being severe.

I hopped on a train to see what a storySLAM at The Moth was all about. Whoa. Long line. It’s like Assscat’s cousin. Me and forty people surrounding me didn’t get in. (And they all looked storytellingish. I dunno, the coats, the hats, the boots, the leggings. the world is getting too large, ya know?) But it meant I WAS gonna be around later for a late night Long Island drive with my friend and her crew. More talk of how her life’s gonna change (wedding.) More of her smacking me on the head, making me think straight about things I don’t think straight about. Smacking’s good.

Back before on Bleecker street I walked quickly ’cause of the cold, cause of the fast music I listened to, but STOPPED when i saw it hanging there. The store was only one of those horrible souvenir shops, but oh ye of little faith. One of those black T-shirts said “Fuck you, you Fucking Fuck!” And I stood there in the doorway laughing. Giggling like a girl – I didn’t know how loud I was because of the earphones. It kind of made my day, catching me by surprise like that. Serendipity. And not being sarcastic.


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