I dream of fire. I wake up it’s water. I dream of water. I wake up it’s heat. I dream of heat. I wake up it’s a storm. It’s out of control, but buried in my pocket underneath receipts and loose change.
Guardian angels mean we’ll never grow up, even if we become guardians ourselves. Guarding in its pure form is just watching over something, so I guess we’re succeeding.
Humpty Dumpty is fatter than ever and walking a tightrope. Green from sickness and blue from sadness, he’s trying to be the fattest tightrope walker of the world. The king’s horses and men are busy, however.
The answering machine is full and no calls have been returned. The purpose of the machine is not the message you could entrust it, but the mechanized answer it gives you and everybody else.
What are the merits of a relay race? There are two kinds: medleys and maths. A mix of technocrats or a group of laborers. A hiding specialist or humble synergy. Who’s to blame? It’s obvious, but then again, no it’s not.
The time of reckoning is upon us. The time of re: könig is upon us. The time of re: könig is up – on us. They tie me of re: könig; it’s up – on us
Humble tumbleweed bumblebees. Somehow we’re tumbling, weeding, and bumbling. We’re supposed to be bumbling like bees, not weeds. What’s humble about that? I still don’t know if we’re weed tumbling or bee bumbling or which we should be doing.
You joke about cracking open a boy with the cold ones, but the ones cracking open a cold one with the boys usually end up doing both anyways. The bottle opener keeps cracking the boy and the bottle, but you keep using it anyway.
Why are we always buffalo bisoning? We can buffalo bison at the same time as the zoologists split and splice. Bad Zoologist Bill split and spliced a lot. He did him looking at buffalos, so let’s stop pretending like we need to split and splice ourselves. The bison does herself and the buffalo does too.
I wish Joe Camel would have just told us he was depressed sometimes. Like it’s okay dude, we get it – we’ve all been there. But he had to sell his soul and be cool, and now we mock him for getting cancer.
Face paint is used to face pain because when we face our pay and then face our pa, we put our face on and in p until we’re feeling defaced enough to put on the old face paint anew.
I sit around by Giannina sometimes, thinking about what she taught me about being wishy, wishy-washy, and washy. There I am beside her and I don’t even know which I’m doing with her, which I should be doing with her.
I’ll just be there for her the best I can. I’m at least sincere enough to know I can’t be there for her. If I don’t continue, someone less sincere will, and that hurts the most since it’ll hurt us all the least.