Last night read a poetry book full of pseudo-philosophic musings. Life enemies, is boring!
Some sort of giantess shot out of the lake with a yellow feather attached to her big toe.
Made me want to drink and listen to country music even though I'm pregnant. Doc says son you can’t do any more of that cocaine. Have I become this southern and trashy? Can the paw of a tulip grow from the mouth of a dead dog?
Little shepherd boy of the valley, oh little Christian checkout boy, oh little green apron boy with the crappy gray eyes, lets watch the sun rise over Georgia.
Gave poetry book five stars on Goodreads. I am such a liar!
What if I get pregnant or step on a syringe and contract AIDS? Who’s going to give me a lot of money
so I can quit my day job and joke around? A log truck rolled over on my commute and out spilled a lake who was trying to communicate by dragging his circular pilgrims underwater.