Looking at the Internet
Once your youthful ideals have died
I’m like fuck yeah that would be nice, and yeah no one wants to be a boring middle aged person working 40 hours, and I know you’re not going to be one, but then you are and you look at youthful ideals and wish you were young and my knee hurts when it’s cold and I’ve pulled some shit in knee so makes skateboarding hard and yeah sucks for Palestine and yeah I want equality, but I’m just surviving not much I can do but like keep an open mind and critique myself and be like Michael Jackson and I’m all about the man in the mirror and making me better and make the change, heee! (Michael Jackson heee!)
The internet isn’t anything to get pissed about
It’s just like a giant circle reflecting on itself
You want to know my thoughts on Justin Bieber… No you don’t
But I mean he’s 19 and a millionaire
He had security close down the street and a little weed Xanax and beer ain’t too crazy
Stay away from the yayo or the opiates though
You see I suck… Clitoris, lolI’m waiting for my therapist. I often, while waiting, hope he forgot and I can just go home. This will cost me 78 dollars with my insurance until I spend 1000 dollars. I spent a 1000 dollars and a little over, mostly on therapy last year. Once I reach my deductible its 15 dollars a session. That him now, coming down the elevator.
Every sky is a different sky
Every morning is a different morning
The essence of life in the morning light, new and fresh, even when cold and snow
The sky will exist without you, when you die, but to view the sky at dusk down an alley, red, on the bus, a silhouetted crane and elevator shaft of a new building west of downtown, you view the sky, experience the sky, existing within and without you
A peace comes and leaves as does all feelings
What is the self, but an illusion to laugh at in retrospect and destroy the joy of life in the present
I say this is me, and this is me and this is me now and this is me then
Death will come but sometimes I wish it would come sooner
The morning air is a salve, like spring, save us from the beauty of frost, death, the end of this self and a bridge to the next
Westgate never ceases to amaze.
There’s a 50 yr old woman knitting on the bus with a content look on her face, her eyes down, barely open like a blind person.
I often spend over $10 a day on burritos.
Breakfast and lunch.
I order carnitas when I feel minorly suicidal because afterwards I feel minorly like I’m dying.
I’m getting off the bus now.