glug is the sound we make while we’re swallowing water going out of a jug into our mouth. plug is a thing you stick into the wall so you can tap into this weird magical form of energy which is just floating around out there, running through the walls and the streets and maybe the air between us while we’re talking. we could use our tongues to try and plug into each other. fickle is the way we feel when we’re feeling like a pickle. i’ve heard of people who think its a good idea to drink pickle juice straight out of a jar. i am not one of those people. but i do like dill a lot. its a great spice. a spice is a thing which people used to sail all over the world for, and over which empires were formed and destroyed. all so that food could taste better. because we’d grown tired of eating the same dishes every day. stewed potatoes and cabbage and whatever carrion we could find on the road which had been assassinated by passing wagons laden with peasants. peasants who were quite possibly bearing presents to their lord and master in some far away up in the air pie in the sky no nonsense summer holiday castle of love and ever wonderful magicness. younger is what we were before we became the things we are today. rifles are the things we use to scope out distant points to which we would like to project ourselves. but maybe we won’t maybe it would be wrong. maybe somebody would get hurt. and besides, it would probably be too loud and the neighbors will surely report us to the omni-cop corporation. it’s a weird way to live, under rocks. mostly weird bugs seem to be best cut out for it. i can’t really explain why. maybe the weight and the darkness makes them feel safe. smiling is the thing that our faces do when we are happy or when we are trying to appear happy but aren’t really feeling that, but still want to appear polite and acceptable in the eyes of others. sockets are both things in the wall that you put plugs into (as mentioned above), and are things in your skull which you put your eyes into. or rather, into which our eyes our put when we’re born. well, before we’re born, i guess. maybe they actually form around the eyes. or maybe the eyes form around them. it’s a question of ultimate causality and original source. mexico is the place that we’re gonna run when the shit hits the fan. but, honestly, i think we’re gonna have to go a lot lot farther than that to escape it. the all-seeing sky father does not seem to be pleased. in fact, he’s been pissing down lightning all around us. and riding within this herd of iron horses, we’re bound to get smoked sooner or later. wither is what plants do when you don’t tend to them correctly. although sometimes, despite all your best efforts, plants just die. and then, sometimes there are other plants that just keep going and going and growing no matter how badly you mistreat them. those plants we call hardy. sort of like the hardy boys. except not so much about solving mysteries. more about staying alive and saying “fuck you” to mystery and also to misery. glug. glug. shh! let me drink my moonshine!
- END -
ASSOCIATED CONTENT @TMBCHR (Auto-Generated)
- No related posts
