"Feeling...better...ahhh....." 

Ass

Being an ass is a blast. It must be as so many are. I couldn't believe that all those asses out there are just the victims of bad luck, poor judgment or happenstance. Shit. Maybe they are. Maybe I am. Am I an ass? Rhetorical question. I just know that I feel a bit out of sorts. Sort of wrong done by, but with that annoying underlying feeling of it all being my fault. That is the worst part, I tell ya. It is one thing for the world to take a shit on you. It is another to sit there with your mouth open. Idiot.

O-K, P-A-R-T-Y T-I-M-E!!! 

Sunny Morning Rock

All the world is a stage. Heard that before? I bet it had been tossed around long before somebody decided to write it down for a bit of wit. As I wake to the glow of that burning ball, out there in space, I think of the veils which shadow our eyes even in such a light. The shadows have been thicker, in the dark, in the past, but they still obscure.
If they are drawn aside a touch while the stage is populated, giving vision to that which is normally hidden, maybe even the poorest of entertainment can enlighten.

"..I get tired of thinking of all things things I don't want to be..." 

Rant 002

Doing nothing is nothing like it is said to be. First off, it seems to be a lot of work. Secondly, it might not be as bad as it is thought to be. Or said to be, actually, because those who say are supposed to know and if they know then they also know that this nothingness isn't anywhere near as shity as it has been described to be. Made a villain in the eye of the public. And why is that? Is it because if we fail to do something, then we will ruin what has been done before? Is it like some cosmic house of cards.
Whatever. I have found I have an ability to do nothing, and we should embrace whatever skills and abilities we have on our side, and we have to get all we can out of this odd orb until we leave it.
As the wise and slightly piercing Platinum Yum-Yum would say; Yup.

"Smell the Goodness" 

Dirt

Messy. Ugly. Smelly. Rotten. Shit. Poo. Filth. Yucky. Sticky. Slimy. Greasy.
Bad Bad Bad!
And somehow we reproduce. Injecting our own goo and mixing it up and SPLAT, another little turd slides onto the field, ready to take and need and use. Ready to pollute. Ready to take up space, use up stuff and cost cash, while faking to think and pretending to feel.
If only a baby shower included some soap.

"Never happen? Maybe you're right. But then again....." 

Zip Zap Zup

I like to think of things in terms of probabilities. But this breaks down if you think either small or large enough. Like the universe, eh? Pretty big. Pretty old (so, big in all four space time dimensions). But add to that the theory of continuous recreation or even the more brutal thought of eventual total entropy, and the very idea of something happening by chance or not by chance sinks to the fact that everything that can will eventually happen. Probably.

"Eek Eek! Can I have a banana?!" 

Black and Blue

"Never trust a monkey..."
It is this slight spit of wisdom that must be formed into an edible wedge. Never has it been so off and on. And will it be so again? Can anyone in the know get past this to sleep, even one night, without the knock on the window warning of the grim hopeless hunger beating you to the punch.

Hell. I don't know. But then again I am well protected by indifference.

"Sweet Chaos, the real deal." 

Rant 001

Ok. Here we go.
Nothing has been the same since the end of the last time. And I should know. Why not? Who better? Well, I could tell you but then the truth would be tainted by the other stuff filling the space between your ears. It is like sailing a nice beautiful yacht during a powerful thunderstorm and farting way too loudly for all the old pianists raging on wild turkey.