Fetal position this morning instead of a job orientation makes a snowstorm seem easy. I have been reading the news and feeling uninspired to jump into Capitalism. Catapultism.
I want a lovin' spoonful. A catapult of sugar cubes.
The cubicle is not calling,
I want to live in Turkey on the beach with palm trees and I will weave rugs all day to pay for my shack to live in.
I want to live in the ocean on a rock covered in seaweed. I want a crown made of tropical flowers.
I want cinnamon scent to wake me up every morning and cupid to sit on my pillow while I sleep. I want cupid to drink my blood from a syphon.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Cutting Edge Fashion and Being Out West
A few years ago, a psychic told me that I should go to Austen, Texas.
She also said that I wouldn't be ready to get married until I was about 34 years old.
It makes sense to me. I am keeping my eyes open for cheap travel to Texas because what she said is there for me is something I have wanted for a while.
No secret-- it's money. She said there is money 'for me' there.
It would be even cooler if there were some kind of buried treasure or a long lost relative there. I know there were most certainly some relatives of mine who 'went west' back in the day. And the slutty side of the family probably made some babies during the Spanish American war. Slutty, or rapy, whatever you wanna call it. Conception doesn't care.
While I was walking in San Francisco, I couldn't help but notice a store called "The Rapy." Regardless of how many times locals corrected my mispronunciation of the storefront sign, I summoned the power of my English degree and told all of them that the capital 'R' seals the deal on the name. We should all just go with it. Rapy fashion is something in between skater, homo-chic, trust fund-hipster, and just plain old cool.
Gotta stay on the cutting edge, my friends.
She also said that I wouldn't be ready to get married until I was about 34 years old.
It makes sense to me. I am keeping my eyes open for cheap travel to Texas because what she said is there for me is something I have wanted for a while.
No secret-- it's money. She said there is money 'for me' there.
It would be even cooler if there were some kind of buried treasure or a long lost relative there. I know there were most certainly some relatives of mine who 'went west' back in the day. And the slutty side of the family probably made some babies during the Spanish American war. Slutty, or rapy, whatever you wanna call it. Conception doesn't care.
While I was walking in San Francisco, I couldn't help but notice a store called "The Rapy." Regardless of how many times locals corrected my mispronunciation of the storefront sign, I summoned the power of my English degree and told all of them that the capital 'R' seals the deal on the name. We should all just go with it. Rapy fashion is something in between skater, homo-chic, trust fund-hipster, and just plain old cool.
Gotta stay on the cutting edge, my friends.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
