Tuesday, August 10, 2010
dogs of society
i'll tell you how it goes. just hold the screwdriver like that, tight, with two hands, and i'll hold the bottom nut and make sure it doesn't spin loose as you turn. go. just go until you can't turn it anymore. then i'll give it one last turn, as i'm a little stronger than you, and it'll be on there nut suckin' tight. if it comes loose i'll bring over some thread locker and make it last until you throw the thing out with the trash.
i've been sweating like this for days now and i don't see an end to it. not in this fuckin' lifetime - like a rash that keeps climbing up my legs, no end to that either. i threw on a little talc today but i know that's not good either, for you or me. sure, i smell and feel a little better but really, who cares if you're dying of some sort of powder disease. i mean really. roses smell great until you forget to water them and they rot right there on the stem. get it? i'd tell you if i knew something else. i really would. but i don't so i'll keep telling you what i know.
my head, the barometer, is fuckin' me hard today like a sledgehammer right between my eyes - i've been told to drink more water and i will, i really will, but i just forget. sounds fucked i know - forgetting to drink or eat. like i an exercise class when they tell you to remember to breathe. what? you ever think about your tongue? once you think about it, you can't stop, well, for a while. i wonder why it doesn't just come falling out of my mouth and droop right there on my lip. how does it stay all tucked in?
i'll tell you how it's gonna be. i've seen the saucers. i know my best friend's girl. i've seen people shake it and not break it. i've ordered tacos in spanish and not had the order fucked up at all. i've driven there.
hands up if you've enjoyed a slurpee this month. i have and i'm a better man for it.
say now. say later. you tell me how it's gonna be.