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elegaic mongoloid before/after Html projects, doomed from the start?...elegaic morons...and, as always, girls.
Well, the html project cruises slowly along, like a string of hunchbacks down the hot ashpalt of an Alabama highway. Really, perhaps I'm a bit pessimistic, but today, finding the image for the magnolia poem in the pondering love entry took a fuck of a lot to make work. Always more to learn... And that's the bent conundrum of life that I have been noticing: ignorance is bliss. The more I learn, the more I realize that I have yet to learn, and this reflects the minutae that is my sum knowledge compared to what there is to know, which is dwarfed again by all that is unknown. Maybe retards have it good after all... 'Cause really, the sound that I've heard that approximates true undiluted joy, came from the mouth of a waterhead, as I road my tenspeed down the road, on a hot summer's day, burning in the heat of the late afternoon, I rode past a house that was a rehabilitation clinic of sorts. A mongoloid had spied me as I sulkily rode by, forced his way to the window, and uttered such a uulation of joy, the likes of which I have never heard since...as the orderlies tried desperately with brute force to pry him from his perch in the window sill. That motherfucker was happy. I have looked for times where I could emulate that happy bastards noisemaking, and I have approximated it, but never reached such a zenith. Woody moves out, with his dog, on the 31st to a hippy commune, the 'granola mansion', as it is known in the parlace of the hill-billies. And brixton is gone this weekend. Much cleaning will be done. I will miss the canine companionship, it is a delight to have someone so happy to see me at the end of my day t, that hey wiggle right out of their skin...but these are not my animals, and as tight as the bond is, its not like raising your own Small Creature. And Don moves in the same day. I will be furiously dodging the white powder that has become their friday ritual. Such evil, evil stuff. Fucks up my serotonin levels, and I have no time for it. Let the chips fall where they may, I'm OUT. And roomie wonders why he has a cold all week, EXCEPT friday...surely a combination of factors. ...and those three girls we met on the weekend, well, apparently they will be cooking us dinner at some point. The details are sketchy, and I have little faith. Supposedly after Don moves in, some evening yet to be named. I will not hold my breath, but I believe Roomie will entice and woo. Don, too. Hopefully the hot-tub will be working by then. My decadent mind reaches new levels of depravity...*sigh*
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