As If
Who the Fuck Am I?
What’s My Mothafuckin’ Name?
I’m Octavius, beyotch.
Now show me yo Tit-tays.
I love early in the morning and not making any sense. I just finished listening to that GM Grimm shit. And it’s some of the shittiest shit I’ve ever heard. I am disappointed. That dude better get back cool with DOOM. Because what I heard was sad. It sounded like some shit I would do. Now that’s some shit. How many times can I say shit in this entry. I don’t know but I’m gonna try and tie the world record, whatever number that may be. Shit. I typed some sentences without shit in them. Now I’m all outta shit, or in the shit. Yeepee. Shit.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
I woke yesterday and I was sad. I drank some kool-aid. And I slept until I had to get up. Then I decided I needed Internet access. So, I slept some more and thought about it. And here I am. It’s kind of hard getting back into this shit here. I mean when you’re in the mix of shit, nothing can stop your shit. But when you back away from shit, then you can act like shit don’t exist. Existentialism. Can a man hear the sound of one tree clapping. Whatever.
So, back to yesterday. I was getting on the bus. Or I was standing at a bus stop waiting to get on the bus. I didn’t have my car. I loaned it to my mother who took my grandmother to the doctor. So, I’m waiting for a bus. And these two teenage chicks start talking shit to one another. And then another girl came up and she went behind one of the girls and held her from behind. Then the other girl started swinging on the girl being held. They beat the shit out of her. Man. That was funny.
Okay. It wasn’t so funny.
It was mostly sad.
And… maybe a little funny.
If you’re sick.
Like me.
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