Just Butt Ice 4
Friday, March 10, 2017
It's Day 69: The 69th Day of the Year
Oh wow what a time to be alive. I got good ideas and almost none of them are political. I can't help a single cat get out of tree. If you think about life as each day is the dumbest day in the history of days then you'll finally be able to taste the beauty. Constantly improving, self against self, you'll see your reflection as one of the rich persons dancing unaffected but charitable in a realm of undefined, undefeated consciousness. A whimper cut from a howl burning in the sleepless night is the only rallying cry you'll need, fam. Till then, just remain secure in each and every decision, and continue to use the tools to broadcast these choices in however, whatever shapeless form your tech gear and networking data plans allow. A shoe can eschew a sock but it must live with the stench this decision creates. "Content before art like the horse, the cart, even the buggy and all, every tiny bug," I say to my right leg. I'm a big bug. S/O all my other insects alive on planet earth right now. S/O to every big bug writing a YouTube comment right now. Y'all the true poets of these modern times. I can and will do better because I don't know different from this ghost, this restlessness. I'm eating sherbet on a plastic island. Making every right decision because there's no such things as shame, editing, humor and bodies here in 2005. Stay tuned, America. I long to kiss you with international contentment flung deep into your greatest, uncharted valleys and holes. I long to stuff your pale holes and zones with so much ad revenue that that which generated the sum will explode in a patchy, static broadcast too shaky to make out. The indeciphered, sitting pretty, crowned eternal eyeballs champion at 162-0, will make vivacious screams deep until night explains morning with just a blink. I shudder; to think?
