They’re all uptight, uptight, uptight, uptight, uptight, uptight.
The universe is roughly the same in every direction; this is true on every scale.
It is impossible for the analytic mind to have an original idea; all it does is synthesize previous inputs. Repeated tests will yield the same result over and over. Why is the creative mind free from the restriction of uniformity over time and space?
I’m not cool cuz I don’t have an underscore in my name.
American Pie is on.
I’m floating, or the room is falling.
Console yourself with the fact that those you envy are just as unhappy.
Always keep moving; if I stop I might not be able to start again.
After catering to the college-educated, reassimilation has been difficult. Subtle, self-effacing humor and literary wordplay no longer impress. Must resort to raunchy jokes and unintelligible noises.
I’m full of shit.
Comments are closed
Comments are currently closed on this entry.