A Journey of a sort

Ah, so here we meet again. It hasn't been too long, but the pleasure is nonetheless awesome dude.

Let me begin my thought by stating, again, the thought: what's going on, really doe? Can we sort that out? Or perhaps we should rather look at the word "sort" itself - that shit is cray, man! Say sort 50 times. And then think of all the different meanings that this dumb goddamned sound has attained over the years. I mean holygoattits we gotta big 'un hun na' mean.

Whoa. Sitting in this space that I am, people walk by the window of this space and sometimes they know me. Sometimes they even shout to me! It's an insane idea that I can NOT seem to grasp. The sheer audacity! Shouting at a window! You FOOL!

Moving back to the query of what may, in fact, be actually going on, really doe: still lost. Still fuming over "sort". Things do not seem well, in Mordor. Strange things are happening at the Circle K. People's bags of weed are turning into mold over night. The sheer sortness of it all, oy ve. Occasionally it makes me wonder why we go through all this shit anyways. Do we ever understand it? Why things are happening as there? What urges them to continue? Or is life simply a wave that carries us all along the oceans, navigating our bodies up and down but always in one direction? Chill out man, you're rockin' the boat, they may not be ready for it. Alright man, sure, whatever, I'm done.

We're still in this space...And Schmuck is a cocoon now. The insect fuck has totally wrapped himself in his own spit, I can't even imagine, the horror, the oh god you asshole just stop it. And soon he'll be a moth, a big, beautiful, green moth. And now people are in the space ah shit.

H's and maybe a K
ME