I've been working on this gypsy painting. She has skin now. I want to call her Esmeralda. It just sounds exotic and I just sound psychotic. I also wrote a poem and I can't tell if it's shit on paper or any good. I'm experimenting with meter; maybe going to try to give it a rhythm (method, nation?).
So I made this apple cake. I did not try it, but people @ work liked it. I did taste the batter while I was making it and it was delicious! I used one teaspoon of cinnamon and sprinkled some pumpkin pie spice in it instead of two teaspoons of cinnamon.
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| She ugly, but she taste good (allegedly). The batter was amaze-balls. |
Well, I was at the gym today and was working out, looking around. I saw an odd food show on the TV where they were frying what looked like blood and putting what looked like poops or turds into it. This was being cooked after they had sliced some sort of hog's head looking thing. I then caught some poor bastard running on the treadmill and got mesmerized by the movement of his neck fold fat while he was jogging. I feel like it means he's really trying and I'm proud of him. I look like an asshole Muppet on the treadmill, so I am not judging, just observing.
But look who is lightly jogging a bit and getting better?
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| Am I gonna turn into the Judy Garland of dogs from my pills? Come on, get happy. |
I have elaborate plans for my after death: I want a New Orleans funeral like in "Live and Let Die." I also want the country of Mexico to make pinatas on the day of my death/funeral. They can make them with my hair curly or straight (the pinata will be like a bust of my head). Now I also know what I want on my tombstone (although I want to be burned and spread in completely inconvenient places by all sorts of people). I also want part of me shot into space, preferably my eyeballs.
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| Bitch, I want a tombstone, too. I also want a fountain and pets that just live where my tombstone is. |
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