Sunday, March 27, 2011

Str8 up G-Ma in da Hozpitall

I wake up at around 11am today with my grandpa calling me. "Your grandmother is in the hospital. Nothing major, just an ulcer."
I talk like a normal person pretty well I suspect, voice raspy from just waking up from a night celebrating the chymical union between two friends of mine. Smoking rollies, drinking cheap beer and mexican food (as well as smoking too much JWH-073 at my own loner after party) doesn't help the morning rasps either.
I hadn't talked to my grandfather in a long time, there's been this big ordeal with my grandma thinking I am a drug addict, weakling, that needs professional help etc. I really don't think people "with ADD" (since that's what I have according to the TV: "Living with ADD and Loving it!" -- it's a PBS special).
My grandfather was to have a knee replacement soon, but that doesn't look like that is going to be delayed (Oh to everyone that is after their health information: now you know...)
The suburbanite paranoid "imagination" (advertising, mass media mind virus of distrust and contempt for your fellow human being) can run rampant and make a million different reasons why I shouldn't even post what I have posted on the internet. And my grandfather is the one who said Assange should be "castrated with a dull rusty blade" in an email to me when WikiLeaks was ~big news~ (Look over here, look here!)
Same tricks Charlie Sheen, Lady Gaga, etc are using to create fame for themselves. We are all cosmic background radiation (From the big bang? Sure, I'm not that enlightened yet... however I use the big bang theory because all the robots who don't know how to think for themselves believe it instead of Psalm 23 now)
Now we are all stars. Some of us superstars. And some are just queers saying EVERYTHING IMPLIES EVERYTHING... statistically.

No, life is all about layers of distractions. Jokes, paradoxes, word-play that's where The Truth lies.

Plasma antenna truths. Meatflapping clit-twiddlers.
Probably means more to you than it does to me.

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