The intelligent punk. Tuff and Smart. I
may be able to maintain a train of thought
long enough... What the fuck was I talking
That's right, i'm Henry freakin Rollins.
Last night, my housemate Caitlyn inexplicably wrote the following on my machine while I was dealing with the laundry:
"twenty grammes of dick brimming out of a bowl the noodles slop onto the floor yea yea the lord spoke unto me, find the chalice of dik in the mountains of aizerbaijan. The carmel waterfalls cascade upon my brow as i look unto the fruity lopsided ears and eyebrows of our parents, our grandparents, yea verily the trail of ancestors what made us who and where we got to today. yea we do not let the occlusion of dick interfere with our goal: ultimate truth in pussy lip smacking. my teeth are sharply filed and io am popping asprin left and right to kill my sunshine rainblow headache but to no avail hamsters pouring down down down the cerebral fluid of my spine and i twinge, lo, i am multiple personalities i am spicy and i am plain and mediocre, lo to sing the song of fruitbats on a summer morning, to abscond with the golden moonbeam you hide under your bed. Lo, verily we chant to IO himself, staring up into the sky with a blank expression wondering what will come next. This is why I think you've got to keep singing yea verily singing"
and so I thought I would share this with you.
My brief visit to Santa Cruz was without incident, I got the bills paid. I came home. Then there was Sushi.
Later on, i'm going out to dinner at The Stinking Rose with Joel and a bunch of his friends, mostly couples. Hmm. We're going to get smelly.