Sometimes I think to myself "how am I gonna (fill in the blank)?" Then I realize it. Eating balloons and making paper animals to put in odd sexual positions. It always makes me feel better to make something. I suggest it. The next time you are feeling down just make something, whether it be a hat, a cat, a bat, or a 6 4 impala. All that matters is that you remember that you are alive and thinking right then. Afterwards I like to go outside with my guns and just hold them. I go out in my backyard with my array of weaponry and pretend and wish I had a big group of zombies attacking my house. Then I could just perch up on my roof and blast away. Oh how I would love to be covered in zombie blood from the splatter of a shotgun shell ripping its head clean off. Maybe then I'll find that zen place I have been looking for all my life. Then I will be able to live at peace with the earth after killing off a bunch of its undead inhabitants. Don't forget kids killing is wrong unless it's for money, sex, or survival. And I mean survival as in living on the hardcore streets just trying to get by selling crack and making the run for it. Man, I know how that is. Every day I wake up and think to myself "How am I gonna make it through this one?" Then I realize I live in fucking suburbia and have virtually nothing to worry about. The only times I come in contact with police is when I get a ticket for my license plate lights being out or for being the guy who drove by when the cop is bored and hasn't reached his quota. I hate that one.
If I had a hammer I don't think I'd hammer in the morning. I think it would be pretty loud and most people would complain. Especially in an apartment complex. Can you imagine all the people living for kicking your ass instead of for the world? Ooh hoo. That would be nuts. Pretty soon I'm hoping to try and learn another language by subliminal messaging. I'm gonna put a speaker under my pillow and put a language program on my ipod and just let it repeat all night long. I think it may work and would be worth the twenty bucks the speaker will cost. Once I saw a monkey and that monkey saw me. It looked me square in the eye, pooped in its hand, threw it at me, and hit me in the shoe. I cried. I was eight. Fuck you for judging me. Lately I have been lacking on creating music. I have been trying to make other things. Like mini movies or a brain simulator that runs on intuition and cheese. But, I have been feeling the inspiration once again and will soon be finishing up my album. Yay for me. Once it's done I'm sure you'll hear about it. I don't really plan on letting many living souls not know about it. Hopefully people might even buy it. That would be weird, freaky, and amazing all at the same time. Maybe even a little titillating. I actually just wanted to type that word. Hehehe, poopy. I love the english language.
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