As I lay here on this replica of mediocre Swedish furniture. While you timidly look for whatever deceitful item you don’t want me to visualize. I act coy as if I am unintuitively focused on this writing like a burglar who is taking his last breath just as the owner bashes the person’s head in gruesomely, un-relentlessly to protect what is precious to them. You aren’t tricking me or pulling the wool over my eyes.
“The friendly ghost” doesn’t give a goddamn about you, as long as your have bread to feed his fanatical passion for my favorite substance. Almost as devoted as a vegan is to Trader Joe’s. I have a request, stop downplaying the venom that runs through my veins. That least sentence isn’t directed at anyone in particular, I just find it slanderous to complain about your minor, temporary discomfort you feel knowing your speaking to a human whom will be living with a MAJOR disease that will last the rest of their time here. Here it is, you’re a tactless, groaning self-centered person.
I’m glad your false sense of self-love is felt momentarily, so you can get a taste of it, only to be surely pulled away from your narcissistic, greedy, desperate hands. I bid you adieu hogwash.
Yours truly, Henk H.
Happy (belated) birthday, L.A.
Planet Fitness Downtown L.A.
California Science Center Blogging
Mac Arthur Park Crypto Jew Worship.
The days of the week always feel different. Sometimes, Thursdays feel like Fridays, and Sundays are too short.