Emily bares it all, I am flipping out.
I haven't seen most of you for quite some time, and it's a bit slow today, so I figure i'd write a little something...for you guys.
I shaved my head again. No one seem to have noticed. Xela and Bright Eyes are wafting out of my speakers, a telltale sign of things to come. None of the zombies seem to mind. They all seem to be floating in their own little imaginary paddleboats, daydreaming about beaching their loose, pale skin on Florida shores.
At the time of this writing, Emily is still around, fucking the entire state of Texas.
Things are so very unright. Everyone feels it. Everyone knows it. But no one wants to talk about it.
Instead, they gossip to pass the time. I can't blame them, as it is not their fault. Everyone is just so very, very scared. Who wouldn't be? If you can't see what's coming, only feel it?
I've been half-expecting this myself, and have actually been doing a pretty decent job at it, filling up sand bags. Stashing canned goods. Smoking a lot of pot.
Most of the time, though, nothing happens. At least, not on the surface. The storm passes, my hair's a mess (or it's comepletely gone at times), and things are calm again. And everything is back to normal. Only it's not.
But we don't know that yet. Today, it's Texas' turn.
......
I shaved my head again. No one seem to have noticed. Xela and Bright Eyes are wafting out of my speakers, a telltale sign of things to come. None of the zombies seem to mind. They all seem to be floating in their own little imaginary paddleboats, daydreaming about beaching their loose, pale skin on Florida shores.
At the time of this writing, Emily is still around, fucking the entire state of Texas.
Things are so very unright. Everyone feels it. Everyone knows it. But no one wants to talk about it.
Instead, they gossip to pass the time. I can't blame them, as it is not their fault. Everyone is just so very, very scared. Who wouldn't be? If you can't see what's coming, only feel it?
I've been half-expecting this myself, and have actually been doing a pretty decent job at it, filling up sand bags. Stashing canned goods. Smoking a lot of pot.
Most of the time, though, nothing happens. At least, not on the surface. The storm passes, my hair's a mess (or it's comepletely gone at times), and things are calm again. And everything is back to normal. Only it's not.
But we don't know that yet. Today, it's Texas' turn.
......
emily, that slut. i stopped caring who she was fucking a long time ago, along with the rest of em. empathy is a wasted emotion in the arena of media broadcasts -- unless you plan on taking action. Who benefits? And you suffer. Instead be proactive in your personal environment. We'd all benefit in leaps and bounds.
-the world is askew. life goes on.
-bright eyes is weak.
-i can put your hair back on with some glue. or just paint it like an easter egg or the world or epcot center or a huge nad or a round banana or a curled up caterpillar or a protozoa or a pinata (ooh) or a planetarium or the calm in the eye of a hurricane or or o ro ro ro rororo ro ror or row row row your boat g e n t l y d o w . . .
Posted by
mike |
3:51 AM
Point taken.
My empathy gland is on vacation.
Posted by
mike |
11:41 PM