I'll move to Paris...

"I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw, I'm in the prime of my life.
Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives.
I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and fuck with the stars.
You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars."


32 hours of work this week. I know I won't enjoy it.

I wonder how much Listerine you can drink before getting sick.
I wonder how many marshmallows you can eat before you pop.
I wonder how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop, and don't you dare tell me three.
I wonder how close to the sun you can fly before your wings melt.
I wonder how far I will have to go from home before I'm home sick.
I wonder if she'll ever love me.
I wonder when I'll be at peace with Life.
I wonder who will be the first to get married out of my friends.
I wonder if I'll be scared when that day comes.
I wonder whether or not Europe will take me in with open arms when I go to study abroad.
I wonder why you haven't called.
I wonder how the tropics are treating you.
I wonder if I'll go down in the history books, like the actual history books, the ones they teach in High School.
I wonder if tomorrow will be just as bad as today.
I wonder what goes on in your head when our eyes meet.
I wonder what it'll take to save you from yourself.
I wonder if I'll actually learn how to cook next semester.
I wonder why science has yet to create the most delicious cake.
I wonder when I'll go thank all the people that helped carve the person I am today.


I wonder what a sandwich made up of gummy words, peanut butter and mashed bananas tastes like. I bet like crap.

If you don't mind, would you pull up a seat? I'm quite lonely at the bar.

I'll go treasure searching one day and dig up the most beautiful artifact ever in honor of you.

Autumn brings the cold and foliage as well as FEDORAS!

Fedoras?! YES FEDORAS!

When will you learn that all you do is cause pain? Get off your high horse already. Well, actually it seems as though your horse is dead. SO STOP BEATING IT....OFF.

The Hunter S. Thompson of today. I'm a man made of flesh, blood, bone and steel. My veins are made of fiber optics. The only thing poring out of my mouth is data, terabytes worth. You probably don't want to hear what I have to say but every time you turn that faucet, you'll hear the raw roaring of the metal in the sink bending and scraping against itself. I hope your joints cringe. I know mine do. Your eyelids will flicker. You'll bite down a bit on your tongue while your ears just pray your brain can already forget that sound just happened. No one likes it when the senses take control of how the rest of your body works. Powerless to smell, sight, touch, taste and ...wtf would be the word for noise in this situation? Fuck it. Fuck you.

Bananas.

I think they're on to me, didn't anybody tell you?

Let's plan a vacation to someplace sunny, hot and tropical. When we burn it down, it'll look just as beautiful.