Sunday, December 24, 2006


You get inside things, they make you crazy. Color, for example. Shawnelle. To get insde and see the numbers, the code, the dna, the whatever the fuck, when you get inside things, and see the fucking structure of it, not of the thing, but of all the things and how they connect - you're fucked. I mean. fuck me.

To figure out Shawnelle. Fuck me.

Better chance at color. I've often thought that being color blind was the same as suffering from blind love. You know you start out and it's the full spectrum so to speak. Then: fifteen years, two kids, the fucking full weight of existence, and you're fucked.

That's what happens on the color table. When you look at color for fifteen years, you're fucked.

Plastic lives. You have no idea.

If you knew, and I can't tell cause all things considered, I've got a job, and how fucking good I am at my job - make no fucking mistake, I'm am the head crack in a crack team. We risk our lives 24/7 - explosions, death, fumes, mutilation, bad catering, mad fucking bosses - I mean fucking mad, insane over the moon fucking nuts in the fucking head idiots - but the one thingh we deliver on is 100% pure color plastic.

We have the machines to prove it. But more, we have the bullshit artists to explain it. I mean fuck me.

So it wasn't without some surprise that as a complete incompetent I landed a job beyond the reach of my skills. I'd seen it before. So have you. In yourself, you cunt.

Don't deny it brothers and sisters. You suck. Big Time.

And so does Shawnelle.

I mean I'm fucked bag deep in love.