Out of Power

Well luckily my phone battery lasts longer than my laptop otherwise I would truly have nothing to do except you know talk with friends and family I ignore in favour of less meaningful relationships with complete strangers...but its not really a relationship is it its more of a I don't know a causalships we relate and disclose far more of ourself rapidly and with eagerness then we do with the ones we love and know buts its never that deep..strangers are more akin too free therapists we need them in our lives to hear us but not to judge or hold us hostage with our own thoughts and feelings.

We want the people who love and like us to continue doing so...so we hide pieces off ourself we think are ugly or are wrong maintaining little white lies is instinctual fueled by fear and self esteem the lower the self esteem the bigger the lies and the bigger the pieces we have to hide when they get big we start getting creative decorating and accessorising.

I guess if I was a fully functioning human rather than just a dysfunctional one with great acting ability because lying is an art form...I would'nt spend so much off my time online or maybe I just have really boring friends and family...a bit of both probably but mostly I think online on the internet the possibilities is endless there is no limit to how far you can travel and the awkwardness of reality is lessened with the ability to reinvent yourself into infinity....that part I like especially when I'm feeling blue.

What Day Is It?

 

I show my indifference to the weekdays weekly by spurts of selective amnesia scoffing at their pretentious notion of individuality I’ve never met a group more alike in their passion to fuck me over than the weekdays I spent my time cowering from their company praying for Friday the least stuck up fucker of the lot once Friday comes I know I’ll be able to get monetary respite in the bosom of my slacker buddies weekends.

That respite of adult fun and mayhem is looking less viable there is something inherently wrong with being sick on the weekends  that's what the weekdays are there for…I’m actually sick and not the fake 9 o’clock sick you know until the school bell rings, but the kind were you have to spend the entire time practically on the deathbed as opposed to being comatose in front of the telly filling on things guaranteed to make you sick…I was never of the Ferris Bueller ilk but more of the vegetable variety snacking on crap watching soap operas talk shows cartoons and black and white movies.

What day is it?…its lets fuck you some more day because that's never getting old weekend shenanigans postponed by the fucking rain parade that is the universe.

Dogs Life

My Dog has a sweet life…having a dogs life is a compliment in my irrelevant opinion zero troubles aside from when your next meal is…which is every dogs top priority food and the quantity of food it will overlook the quality if starvation is the only other option I know I’ve brought home enough canned shit because the dog on the picture looked good and because the price I ignore all the other stuff like writing I’m never going to eat that jellied shit and it all looks the same shit chunks coated in jelly that smells like tuna.

Then there's the daily torturous walks (for me) or what I like to call drag racing I always feel like I’ve involuntarily participated in some survivor style manic death run and the dog is the only who can see the killer chasing us luckily he’s no longer the bubbling puppy ball of energy intent on chasing every stray leaf now he's settled into a lazy slob who spends his days impersonation a limp cucumber of course he may have finally subscribed and is channelling my lazy aura…but he’s free to come and go as he pleases because the bastards so skinny he slips under the gate and can wriggle through the bars I would you know get off my backside and escape proof the garden but then I would have go back to walking the hair ball…and he's a big boy now knows the neighbourhood doesn’t need to be lead around like a puppy and thank fuck for that.

Shitting well it doesn’t give a fuck where it shits since it won’t be cleaning up seriously my dog just gives me his two signature glares his first is the vacant I’ve ran out of giving fucks when I was born look and his second is “I speak no English so fuck you” look…I treat him like a retarded teenager who's never going to pay rent or clean after himself so yeah I don’t need kids I’m good with the one I’ve got.

Dogs life I wish I had no job no bills no one giving a fuck if I’m wasting my life away or if I’ve achieved anything as long as he can keep his shit out of my garden I consider that a giant fucking bonus.

Thought Cloud

My thought clouds were drifting aimlessly changing and moulding to the whim of the wind….today a thousand thoughts marched and evaporated through my consciousness but I cannot recall a single significant one trying to recapture an errant thought is like seeing the snow fall of a million fleeting dust illuminated by a ray of sunlight and trying to catch a single speck hopeless really it can’t have been that important if I can’t remember….once you’ve swallowed the poetic garbage all I’m basically trying to say is I forget a lot of shit.