leper
Summers are shit but they have their perks. You can bathe without having to suck in gulps of air, screaming like a banshee as the freezing water makes your lungs collapse. It is not important to salvage warm water to rub as much of it everywhere and anywhere you can. In summers…the water is fine…except when it gets too hot and you can only bring one body part close enough for a bit of dry cleaning. Some parts are too precious to be wasted/boiled…and have to be washed separately.
Although in winters you don’t really have to bathe…I mean I don’t bathe for months…I don’t change my clothes for months…I feel fine…parents obviously lie to us when they overexaggerate the importance of bathing…oops my decaying arm just fell off…
The best thing about summers is the freedom to walk around without my shirt on. Sitting on chairs with towels on them that scratch your back if you move just right…and if your hair is long enough…you can make it touch your back like a pervert…which is nice if you’re a pervert.
You can’t sleep in summer. I want to sleep but I can’t. A platoon of mango bugs has dethroned me. I hate summer. I sweat in summer. Actually sweating is fine…it’s the smelling like shit that I have a problem with…a couple of beads of sweat are alright…in fact they’re perfect if you’re a pervert…and they’re on somebody else…slowly dripping down your spine…or down the neck…sweat doesn’t mind going where nobody is…but someone should be...so it's...good. I will have to get a haircut…fine…I’m bored of this hill anyway…actually since I’m all out of supplies and without anything to distract me, I’m getting pissed off about nothing…every sound seems too loud…and I want to bite a neck…for an hour or so I’ve been having the urge to bite someone on the neck…preferably female…or that one boy I used to have a crush on…I am too old to be playing the role of pubert the horny loin.
There are too many bugs around in summer. And children.
I hate ugly children. Ugly children are ugly and not pleasing to the eye. Summer is filled with ugly children. Winters hide these children under layers of clothes…summer exposes these bastards for what they really are…a sad collection of ribs and bits of meat…which would be a good description of my current physical state…a sad collection of ribs and bits of meat. Although my ass is to die for. this last sentence was supposed to make people feel bad about themselves...that is to say...that even though all it does is shit...it looks good doing it.
Sudden indifference…all the sounds subside…you don’t mind the noise at all…it comes in waves…the realization that you’re not in anyway altered…and this is what it really is like…we…er started at a low point…I think with little or no supplies…then we reached the happy period with loads of stuff to do and everything was boring but passable…endurable. and now we’re headed back to the long faced depressed state of mind where everything is too slow and we can actually take more time to linger in the company of each thought…get to know more about it…see where it came from…think up a cozy way for it to finally make its way into the sea of words. Which is even more boring…but at least it’s saner. Sometimes you can’t bother to watch them glide away to wherever…and instead you rush through…but then when you’re back and your back is against a nice enough rest…you can afford to just stare…it’s a test; the smell of dirt before it rains…bits of nature in tiny grains. Some people can write on needle heads…others carve their minds and become dickheads.
So it’s ok…we’re back to normal. Not so very tactful discussions with the squib lead us to hope…something to look forward to…although I’m not supposed to…but what the heck…shameless cowardice.
It’s been a long time since I looked at keys this way…the different shades that I was starting to miss out on…the feeling that usually gets intense but not quite right…not normal…enjoyable but not normal.
I’m a slow person (in the retarded sense). That’s how I function…slowly.
It’s been two months…
Writing complete bullshit for two months finds me writing more bullshit…just less interesting for the villains…
Although in winters you don’t really have to bathe…I mean I don’t bathe for months…I don’t change my clothes for months…I feel fine…parents obviously lie to us when they overexaggerate the importance of bathing…oops my decaying arm just fell off…
The best thing about summers is the freedom to walk around without my shirt on. Sitting on chairs with towels on them that scratch your back if you move just right…and if your hair is long enough…you can make it touch your back like a pervert…which is nice if you’re a pervert.
You can’t sleep in summer. I want to sleep but I can’t. A platoon of mango bugs has dethroned me. I hate summer. I sweat in summer. Actually sweating is fine…it’s the smelling like shit that I have a problem with…a couple of beads of sweat are alright…in fact they’re perfect if you’re a pervert…and they’re on somebody else…slowly dripping down your spine…or down the neck…sweat doesn’t mind going where nobody is…but someone should be...so it's...good. I will have to get a haircut…fine…I’m bored of this hill anyway…actually since I’m all out of supplies and without anything to distract me, I’m getting pissed off about nothing…every sound seems too loud…and I want to bite a neck…for an hour or so I’ve been having the urge to bite someone on the neck…preferably female…or that one boy I used to have a crush on…I am too old to be playing the role of pubert the horny loin.
There are too many bugs around in summer. And children.
I hate ugly children. Ugly children are ugly and not pleasing to the eye. Summer is filled with ugly children. Winters hide these children under layers of clothes…summer exposes these bastards for what they really are…a sad collection of ribs and bits of meat…which would be a good description of my current physical state…a sad collection of ribs and bits of meat. Although my ass is to die for. this last sentence was supposed to make people feel bad about themselves...that is to say...that even though all it does is shit...it looks good doing it.
Sudden indifference…all the sounds subside…you don’t mind the noise at all…it comes in waves…the realization that you’re not in anyway altered…and this is what it really is like…we…er started at a low point…I think with little or no supplies…then we reached the happy period with loads of stuff to do and everything was boring but passable…endurable. and now we’re headed back to the long faced depressed state of mind where everything is too slow and we can actually take more time to linger in the company of each thought…get to know more about it…see where it came from…think up a cozy way for it to finally make its way into the sea of words. Which is even more boring…but at least it’s saner. Sometimes you can’t bother to watch them glide away to wherever…and instead you rush through…but then when you’re back and your back is against a nice enough rest…you can afford to just stare…it’s a test; the smell of dirt before it rains…bits of nature in tiny grains. Some people can write on needle heads…others carve their minds and become dickheads.
So it’s ok…we’re back to normal. Not so very tactful discussions with the squib lead us to hope…something to look forward to…although I’m not supposed to…but what the heck…shameless cowardice.
It’s been a long time since I looked at keys this way…the different shades that I was starting to miss out on…the feeling that usually gets intense but not quite right…not normal…enjoyable but not normal.
I’m a slow person (in the retarded sense). That’s how I function…slowly.
It’s been two months…
Writing complete bullshit for two months finds me writing more bullshit…just less interesting for the villains…
posted by Duck at 5:15 AM
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