|I, I, I.
||[Jul. 1st, 2003|07:22 am]
|[||In the Moment
|||||Hum of a Box Fan.||]|
I focus on myself, and it brings up non-happy thoughts.
I rarely stay happy, and if I'm happy, most of the time, I'm lying so people will stop talking to me.
I like to initiate conversation. There is always something past the realm of the box.
It's hard to see how much pain and suffering I internalize, but somehow, the bad becomes a mood organ for artistic expression.
And, no matter how much I try to do anything, I always fail. It would be nice to be completely instinctual, since the non-instinctual has difficulties.
I am the Dinty Moore version of life.
Give me your heartache, and I will give you a print of my thumb in approval.
Ay, Oh Kay?
Koo Koo Ca-choo, Mrs. Robinson.
Scatt'rd Pik-churrrs of thuh waaaaaaaaeee weeeeeeeee weeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiirrrrrrrrrrrruuuuuuh.
You could have ONLY gotten this through my lunchy today hee hee!!!!
I love you...and remember I always see beyond the others see :o)
Actually, for the record of anyone curious, it was established that early in the morning, I had a pure thought of Dinty Moore foods, how on the cans, they have a very odd thumb-print. It is some symbol of approval, like a seal of approval from the company, arp arp.
However, Dinty Moore is like . . . well, I don't eat it much. Spam, Marchuan Ramen, Dinty Moore. Then there is Campbell's, and the carbon copies a step above in terms of quality.
Regardless, I think of myself much as the level of Dinty Moore. And, my weird mind has an image of the thumb-print, and it associates it with the image of Eddie Murphy from Saturday Night Live, playing the role of "Grown-up Buckwheat."
In the culmination of the word-scape, the result is that this was a singular thought from my consciousness, and the fact that Heidi had Dinty Moore for lunch later in the afternoon before work is an instance of instant karma getting you.
I wish I'd had a conversation with John Lennon. His assassin hurt the world in a strange way.