that morning i ate a whole box of expired Pocky cookie biscuits and had the runs like never before. i also made ramen noodles for breakfast mixed with some left over chili weeks old. i don’t remember what day it was but i remember the expiration date on the pocky saying november 22, 2016, so it was really expired. it was strawberry flavored too so i think it was a rare box of Pocky. And just my luck, i still have a few boxes left of expired cookie sticks. (*noteFL*Talked to a little girl today about momentum, physics, bridges, training wheels, and Wendy’s.)
SO SO SO SO SO!!!!!!! I made a magic pancho. in high school, i used to wear a dark red pancho around. and i mean i completely pulled it off too because it was around the time i started getting into the strokes, and thrift store shopping for old weird clothes, and i was really into the drama club. My mom was a seamstress so i know how to hem a cut. anyway, i also made a sleeveless hoodie with a buckle instead of strings to tighten up the hood. but sleeveless because i forgot to put them back on. it looked like a ninja get up. Oh! the pancho! right! so I sewed a piece of fabric together in a way that made the pancho always look as though it was waving in the wind all mysteriously. It was a short pancho that barely went past my forearms, kinda like the top part of Vincent Valentine’s scarf. of course i didn’t wear a full cape! my shadow is my cape. my pancho was fashionably awesome because scarves are gay. it was light so i could wear it year round, hiding my beers beneath as i walked to my next class like it ain’t a big deal, and a hidden pouch sewn-in to hide my smokes.
Anyhow, strawberry pocky, ancient egypt, chili soup, ninja hoods, and being ahead of time.
Where my old non-sequitor ramblings used to just be funny cause it was so random, I say them like I’m throwing targets in the air just to slingshot this phrase, “don’t worry, it’ll all make sense.” But young man, your reach should not exceed your grasp, tsk tsk tsk. FUCK THAT. think and take a tall toke of fresh air because the times are tolling all the time, and back when they said …the time is now, they didn’t know what they were talking about. Fuck that self help, carpe diem horseshit too and i saw that solemnly because why is no one wondering why they’re depressed about not being depressed enough. Hey, i gotta be as depressed as this one guy i know just so we can relate and be less alone somehow. (holy crap, that was the most sarcastic thing i’ve ever written. expired pocky graspberries.)
i can’t keep a 40 hour work week. i can’t pay off this rented car. gas. i got gas. i watch way more t.v. than i’m leading everyone else to believe. …and at the end of the day is still a phrase that haunts us all and charges us with yesterday’s expectations. i might sound snobby, but what’s the point in adulting in a world where the average nobody is the most important person within us all. (you should write about self identity, i think. Shit, so, these parantheticools are actually how my other other split personality chimes in… and they’re excited about using italics. oops, fecked up your paragraph, and lost the audience…. or did we….??) Our mark we leave, our digital footprint will say how much we didn’t get to figure out on our journeys of self discovery. Where the past once hinted wisdom through tilting one’s perspective to hop a hurdle, the children meowadays only look to see how many views were hit. (the time is meow… seriously!? I take all my jokes seriously.) and onto the next thing, like how this paragraph is just ADHD hard-on. best believe sucka. *mic drop. (michael drop. You’re not the archangel. I dunno, he doesn’t wear underwear, he goes commando. thou needst not a flaming sword of justice!! thy art a smooth talking wordsmith that speaketh cuts not of double edged collateral damnagery, but concise, like the swords edges cutting inward. Like, kindofeth a pair of scissors. ……hm. but even the wisest of old fools know when to put away the crooked smiles and similies.)
The only thing missing from old fairytales, and myths and legends, and folkstories and end of the world stuff isn’t a thing. it’s a character. The comic relief person is always missing in the stories… my silliness and vagueries were to protect and guard against sad shit. if i didn’t make an ass of myself all the time, the next person would be crying. i am just a humble servant.
(&Þ the first word, was a pun.. ..sorta.) shoot! i forgot to talk about my new pancho! parent it! fuck! (it’s deep maroon and green layers like if robinhood saved red ridinghood! lil’ red robinhood. plus!! he kinda broke physics a little when he was pinning it together, so he kinda fell back into a different part of his timeline, and is confusing the big cheeses. the rushing shushing of the kitchen sink! wait a second! they took that! whoops, next one over.)
flow less than three rivers.