Ships That Pass In The NIght

Right. I feel this guy. I love my mother. I am terrified. I don't like her being ill. But like, I've never wanted to bone her, with the exception of one dream where I nailed her and my sister in the best performance of my dream life. But I choose not to acknowledge that. Was that the truth or a lie? No one will ever know. No one will ever know. I will carry the secret to my early grave. That is Oedipus by the way. It is my favorite piece of art in the world. So buy it for me.
Yes. Indeed. That’s how I roll.
This month marks the one-year anniversary of my blogging world. In one year I have managed to attain seven readers. At this rate when my blog reaches 43 trillion years old, half the universe’s population will read. AWESOME!!! Seriously. I don’t even know why I bother.
Pabst is back in my life. God bless capitalism. I got the capital and you got the ism.
Have you ever been terrified about something? Like freaked the fuck out. But then someone plays some Miles Davis in your head. You do the shit you are afraid of and you nail it. You get up in its ass like a gerbil. You fuck it until it has no choice but to tell its mother about how the brutal violent degrading fuck it just received sent shockwaves up its spine in orgasms. Has this ever happened to you? It happened to me today.
Tomorrow I will entertain everyone with a picture of me. I am the ugliest human being to roam the Internet. Which places me high in the running for ugliest person of all time. So don't get your hopes up.
I have an Acura. I have a Razor cell phone. I have an entire wardrobe made by diesel, Kenneth Cole, Armani and Banana Republic, along with some Brooks Brothers shit. I have music that is awesome and unique. I am Catholic. I have tattoos. I still feel empty. To plagiarize my boys. It's only a matter of time, before we all go away to a better place, I'm told. It all sounds well and fine. But with out you around I feel nothing but cold.