Reality

I have given notice to my landlord- actually I already collected everything, then left a note in the mailbox. In lieu of the rent that was due last week, my furniture should suffice. I left the place in pretty good condition, and what truly makes this wonderfall all the better is that it wasn't my suggestion - it was Ezekiel's. He doesn't want me far...and it's near impossible to be that apart from him.

I'm thinking about telling my editor to fuck off, finally concentrate on what I really want. So pristine the snow, so appropriate how I stained it. For the first time in ages I marked something and proved I am not invisible. I am now convinced that it is time to shut out all of the bullshit that drives me crazy, makes me wince at having to engage in dribble with the morons that make up most of the world.

I want to suffocate their God for my bleeding heart- I can't stomach the pathetic imagery, the excuses they crawl under to justify violence. The followers just traipse through everyone else's meadows and crush and squeeze out what gets most of us through the stupid day. How about someone finally squeeze out their hook line?

How many wake each day and are forced to go through a checklist of what can and cannot be done/said/worn/thought, where to set the self-censoring traps for whatever the act will be? And there they swagger with their crusted yellow drooping effigy, their ragdoll pity symbols and their spread of fictional crack recipes for a life lived accordingly. The world's greatest contribution to shit and best damn fucking manipulation to commit heresy with license...squashing the realists who just want to whip their pathetic costumes off and find amusement in their begging.