Monday, August 19, 2013
Behold my audience, prepare yourself for a series of dark, dark words.

So shit happened to me. That's life right? I'd like to discuss with you about shit. Shit happening. I'm not going to go into detail regarding my personal shit. But shit happened, thats all that mattered. On a scale of what kind of shit? It's no third world shit, it's first world shit. But it's still shit, am I correct?

Ever cried til you're left of no tears but you still feel like crying? That was a shitty rhetorical question but it still is one. This is rare but getting very personal here, this shit that happened, has unfortunately caused questioning in my faith. I wish it hadn't but that's what my brain is telling me, I'm trying but it's not working. Honestly, I'm a lost dog right now. I'm a lost dog that may just exercise puppy like behavior, shitting on your carpet, you know what I'm saying?

And when serious shit presents itself, you walk to the Hudson River and watch it, after dark, watch it dark, and fuck shit, you question shit, over and over again, some current shit happens, you snap out of it and the real shit hits you hard, like 300mph hard. You play a record and realize, it's all out, your games out on the table, you lost. You got nothing to loose. Roll out some records, get the dishwasher going, light that candle so hard it blows the jar, call in Gotham door to door delivery, roll out some paper, roll it, take out the transparents, and let the shit begin, since, you indeed got shitted on, real bad. With me?

And formal education. Why can't it be a question? Fucking paradoxical world. Embrace it or shit on it?

Anyone want to discuss shit with me?


Donate some kleenex anyone.
I'm aware that people who personally know me might come across this, and if you do, don't fucking text me, leave a comment and have a shitty public discussion with me. Have it right here. Don't hide. I won't reply your text, I'm not taking any calls right now either. I'm too busy shitting. Or vice versa.

And fuck Hudson. Shed some blood and sweat, woodcutter on your skin, pour it. Try that. Ouch. I'm too shitty to not type in proper grammar. Damn it Hudson. With this record playing, this dishwasher washing, this keyboard typing, this screen illuminating, these tears rolling, these sorrys coming in, these candles melting, this darkness overwhelming-fuk it's pretty depressing. 


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