the incapacity of writing has desperately reached to me, pulling my collar and screaming for the words "pussy", "fart", "shit", "piss",  "fuck" to be printed in big or maybe even small black bolded letters 

this is what i like to call a long journey in which the main purpose is to lose as much time as you can. it's not that i have something against blogs. not a chance. my pussy inflamed brother is crying on one of this things for some time now 

is something with this internet thing that i don't actually get. how it works or why it does. it's the lala world of possibilities in a way that america is. a fully idiotic place that can turn bumps into artists and artists into bumps. Bob, stop me here cause i can feel this is the dark side that pulls me into dramatically charged farts 

so yeah...colin farrell becomes an actor, kid kudi a singer, i can't say too much about nicole kea cause i still thing she's a stripper and nothing more (but don't you hate your finicality dropped so much that you would really hit that precious little latina?!) and of course obama becomes president (yes i'm a nazi little bastard who still wears his grandfather's gas mask and shits on minorities...)

the thing is that every time i surf the internet i get excited in some way and then i end up getting so pissed off that i'm starting to take photos of sick cats. for instance it hasn`t even been 3 days since i've arrived from berlin that i found several of my pictures from the exhibition on the website called ffffound. 

now i hear this is a good thing. but what happens when i can't get an account there? i get pissed off. really pissed off. and i know it's not me that counts, it's my work, bla bla bla...but i haven't snored in a while to this bedtime stories and i don't want to recover. 

and it's always about principals. i don't even know what an account on ffffound would mean, but i sure know i could sell it for a few bucks. no sweat, i'm getting to personal and that bulb starts flashing. remember to switch it off sometimes.

oh Bob, you know how much i hate to talk about myself

you know I'm so bad with poetry and i can't write that gestapo is circling my heart

but i bet i can make a damn good fuck photo 

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