Peel me like an orange. Go ahead, unzip my brain and remove papers, stamped and choreographed by shadows. Insert the papers into a paper shredder, and burn the rest. Where are we going to find fire? Why, by incinerating carbon or combusting rocks real hard. We’ll wear our goggles, or protective eyewear. Whatever.
Whatever we have to wear, you know, wardrobe specific, fashion some trees and leaves and branches and fiber and or moon dust or pinball machines. My clothes go plink, plink, plink when I walk, because I’ve got guys stabbing nails into the wood and then beating them down with a hammer, with me in between.
Plink, plink! the nails will say. Boy howdy, 1,2,3. I didn’t really care as much as these guys, but they won’t stop hammering away. Master Pete and the Postcards. 1950’s-type rock style bands. I’m losing my own attention with this stuff. Old school renegades, Socrates and the Aristocracy, real stuff of the cosmos.
Lightning is crashing all around me now, biff BAM BOOF BZZZT! Snap crackle pop. Whatever you want to make up in your head. Whatever.
I won’t stop you. I’m not here to stop your imagination. I would be someone else if I was here to stop your imagination. Help you forget everything, and why. I don’t do that. Why should I?
Let your imagination grow, it is the only fight back you have against the fucken tyranny of existence, it’s unceasing grip on our lives. Sometimes we can take airplanes, other times we are getting punched in the face by villains, or else forgetting what movie we were supposed to be watching. It doesn’t matter.
Right? It doesn’t? I’m just faking this moral compass, because it provides something to my imagination, wouldn’t it? Who knows? How do you stop it?
Some things are more or less important to anyone else, I’m not a big judge of what, the conventional?
Far be it from me to judge the conventional, I suppose. I suppose that’s what we pay big money for. Yo, big money?
-Hey hey, big money in the house guys, woop woop!
Yo, big money, where you come from up in this piece, as in, piece of writing?
-Aw, dog, c’mon we’re not playing that game bro, says big money
-Dog, this is BIG MONEY, like when I grin, you gleam, you got me, pal? We ain’t tryin’ ta sink this ship like a rock bro and now you got me feelin’ reel bad about all that and I’m just big money tryin’ ta bring some joy in life and win the day
Listen, big money, I am -sorry- that is my big bad. I wasn’t trying to make claims.
-You’re alright! Hey, hey! Let’s go terraform MARS, motehrfucker.
Now he’s talking. Well, that was big money chockful of great ideas because he’s the one and only.
=hey guys how are you
who the fuck are you
=im the spirit of christmas doubt guys and im not sure if i should even be hereeee…..
oh my gosh man can you not keep kicking down this door you are wanting to head a few doors down the way
=… are you sure?
NO!! I mean YES!!! GET OUT
=that’s not really that nice of you
what do you mean i mean like get out you’re a trip