Thursday, March 4

“I peed on the corpse. Can they do, like, an ID from that?”

I am writing something here. I’m thinking and creating, it’s constructive. Though I have this queer feeling that everything will turn into something pathetic and I will end up with no cigarettes and a bad coffee on my desk, praying to James Brown to fix his goddamn diction. And then my mom will show up yelling about me not taking the right decisions. By the end of my awareness, a huge giraffe will grab my left leg with its mouth and hang me in a tree. Then the bald mystic guy from ‘The Fountain’ lowers me on the ground saying something with a strong Buddhist influence and Johnny Depp, looking just like in ‘The Libertine’ (when he blabbers his monologue about society crap) kisses me (my theory, capisci?). Right after all this agitation I will be on stage dressed in a Victorian dress, trying to perform Juliette but I never liked that play so I suck and the public starts throwing some chickens towards me. In the end, I will cry in my room blaming this website and perform my vendetta by deleting my blog. Again.

Ha, I’ve just realized I’m talking to myself, and myself only.

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