We're All Infected

I stay home a lot.  I go on walks, too, but I stay home a lot.  Nowadays that means cleaning with Ryan, reading, making fruit smoothies.  It gets old, man.  So tonight I'm goin' to UCB to see some pupil comedy.  If I had money, I'd get blackout drunk, too.  But I don't.  And it's a new year.  And I don't actually wanna.  Come on, now.  That's the old me.  Gimme a break.

Sometimes when I have sex (I haven't lately) or when I get really sick (I haven't lately), I start to hallucinate.  Many times, it's a riddle of sorts I have to solve but is ultimately unsolvable.  Past hallucinations include:

-reaching a mirage
-finding a way to sneak attack an opposing front-line in a ground war
-lowering a cheesy puff into a pinhole via cross-stitch string
-figuring out a language I've never spoken
-getting 3 kids dressed in black off of my driveway

I don't know where these come from or why my illness and love-making trigger such a cacophony of mental hyjinx in my mind.  So it goes.  I should do more field work.  Lick more flowers and handrails.

Hire me, motherfuckers.  I'm tired of waiting!

Profanity in a Can,
-LS^2

  

To give you an idea...