Blow shit fuckass

I don’t know what to say. Mom tried feeding the cat upstairs but ants crawled all over the food. Then dad yelled like a psycho abt it, is now cleaning it up __&&__ looking for the entrance the ants are using to access that area of the house.

The house is very cluttered so this is sort of an ordeal.

Dad sort of verbally abused mom abt her foolishness.

Mother is a silly person.

This all woke me up after 5 hours of sleep, b/c I went to bed at 3 AM.

But I like waking up in the morning, and having a reason to wake up.

My room, of course, is spotless, b/c (bitch) I’m perfect.

I don’t kow wat ese to sy.

It’s sort of strange, innit, all the bad advice, all the mistakes others push on you.

Hard to find normal ppl these days.

We live near a church, so the neighborhood is kind of weird.

I (hope?) think? some new neighbors bought the house next door (?) The old neighbors, a British guy and his Asian slut, sorry, concubine (of course), seemed to have sold the house.

Well anyway.

I don’t know. IF ONLY YOU WOULD STOP SQUIRMING AND JUST SIT THERE AND THINK A MINUTE BUT NOO AND WHEN YOU DO IT’S TOO MUCH && THIS IS A REFLECTION OF YOU NOT ME BECAUSE I DON’T EXIST I’M JUST A DISEMBODIED VOICE PROPAGATED BY NOISE POLLUTION AND PSYCOTROPIC DAMAGES.

What else is there to say?

I don’t know. I don’t know what to say. Fuck you?

Bitch shit fuck ass nigger thizz ass nigger bitch. Die die die.

Fuck shit ass blow shit fuckass. Blow shit fuckass.

Blow shit fuckass.

I don’t want too talk about this fucking nice stuff. I already have plagued mind, a, of virused up ppl from the internet harassing me with candy circles dancing w/their hands up their vaginas and asses out, and it’s super crude.

But maybe some cultures thrive on superficiality && ludititude.

I don’t know what else to say, but I have a lot left.

I don’t want to talk about real life.

What is this dog shit, ham-ass kicking hamsters in the gut.

What do you think this vice could MATTER so much, without reprisal for wanting to stay… slow?

…Would you? Would you stay?

Despondency.

I don’t know. It’s sort of difficult. I find things, I don’t find things, I find things, I don’t find things.

Despondency.

The whole personality of the place is a ruinous cartographer’s dominion.

I don’t know what else to say.

Sorry for “fuck shit ass” etc.ing all the time. Lots of isms from me.

Well in any case.

I wasn’t planning on NOT isolating, but now that I’m starting to (NOT isolate, that is), maybe I should be more polite, dare I say, courteous?

The contrast may make you thinking I have bipolar, or am belligerent in character.

Yeah maybe.

I don’t know.

Sorry about all the stuff.

Your stuff.

Are you assuming it has been openly disclosed?

Because it hasn’t.

Your speech is distorted && surreptitious.

It would be nice to live somewhere QUIETER.

Oh you’re talking again. How unfortunate.

Well today I debated my mother’s religious stance on physics, sort of won the argument, she got angry.

Good students like losing arguments b/c then they have an opportunity to learn.

I love being proved wrong.

It IS doable, when you have a “mental illness” (brain disease (stem cells in the cortex, please)), to prove a mentally ill person wrong I mean.

No one gives a shit about their patients/customers/employees anymore, THOUGH.

There’s a lot of human speech in the area, bouncing around acoustically, and I own an LP player, that a family member / relative got me as a gift, and I never use it, b/c the sound system is good and the music market is dead.

Do I crate dig? No. Yes. Quickly. Get in, get out, go home.