So after slashing my credibility to the barest minimum, let me just say, don't peruse Diaryland whilst tripping.

Oh. My.  Fucking.  God.  Duuuude.

Yeah.  No shit.

Read (someone's) an entry and just be all(or fuck dude, insert your dialectical colloquialisim for pantoming a behavior here, such as...I would be like, or I would be as if, or express myself as such, or homie was like dis' or other world gajin' had magical powers greater than the Third Emperor of the Ling Dynasty and his words of wisdom were...) , "Huh? What the fuck are you talking about.  I sent you mail?  Jesus.  What was I thinking.  I sent you mail?"

Not like I sent you a dwarf in a cake or anything, but still, read what you fuckin' write.  Did it even approach sense to you on the way fucking out.  Didja' notice exhibit a: your fuckin' issues, and exhibit b:  your fuckin' issues?

(Dwarf?  Cake?  What?  where the hell did that come from?  I suppose I was either trying to a) minimize the importance of mail, or rather e-mail, as opposed to the relatively cumbersome chore of attempting to ship a miget by parcel post or...yeah, I suppose that's it...or maybe "huh?" as opposed to  the uncomprehending look one would achieve by receiveing a dwarf in a freshly baked item and the adrenaline rush that accompanies this as you realize that this is a Parcel You Must Subdue.)

Y'know, do whatever.  I'll still dig it, just:"Huh?"

And not even a good, thought provoking, "huh.", kind-of like when you talk to someone for a bit, and you don't realize they're a retard, and they'll do something figgy, that'll just make you look at them and go, "huh?"

"Huh?"

"When did you stop being a normal fuckin' person?  And why didn't I notice the crash helmet sooner?"

I even stayed away from the oddballs.  Well, most of them, anyway.

Good christ am I high.

And far be it for me to say, that while perched up here on my lofty post, waiiit...waiiiit...let me just say 'I am incredibly goddam high right now.' 

Oh, that, and I strongly questioned my sanity tonight.  Took a real beating on those odds, and y'know what, I didn't even try to handicap myself with good fuckin' odds.

Just:"Oh, yeah, he was a quiet boy.  Doesn't surprise me in the least."

Hmmmm.  Coming down now.  A little bit. 

Good lord.

Wow.

Dwarf in a cake.  Right on.

Boy would that suck.

Far be it for me to ditch on anyone for not making any sense.  Y'know.  I'll look at something I wrote, just basically spilled out of my stream of subconcious chatter, and realize later what the hell I was talking about.

No need to go back and furthur elucidate my thoughts, as it came out right the first time.  It still made sense.  Just not at the time.

But man.  Does what you wrote even make sense to you?  At all?

Damn.

And before I start perusing the real weirdos let me just say- and y'know, anymore, I'm not really sure who that is, honestly.

Is it the kinky sex freaks, or the repressed motherfuckers who believe in the monotony of the cacaphony of phoniness that is modern life.

Do whatever with your body, if it makes you happy, I say.  Just like, Don't Bum Others Out with it.

And if that means keeping your freaky assed shit covered up, well then you do it.  Shut the blinds. Keep it under wraps. Do what you have to do, and yes everyone understands that passion spills into the streets every once in a while, but not every goddam night.  Y'know?  Get your pleasures behind closed doors with some people that may or may not understand you.  Just keep the shit out of my morning thoughts, is all I ask.

Much like down on the Amish farm, where Jebohdiah learns the meaning of the Law form Abramm.

They's in the barn all night.  Abramm was speakin' form the law books.  All damn night.

Yep.

From the heart, he was.

Don't know none about that screamin' I heard little past tweleve, neither.

Sounded like he found his righteous eye with a toothpick, if you ask me, but then I didn't talk so much right, 'cept every now and again.  Din't make much sense, neither.

hmmm.  where the fuck did that come from?  Other than to say, everybody keeps their weirdness hid good, and we'll all just go for that.  Toss me a couple of mexican blankets, a few tarp straps, bag of ice and a gross of tranquilizer darts, and I'll keep my weirdness hid good, too. 

hmmm.  still don't know where that came from.

Everybody's weird and no one is weird?  I guess.  And they don't go around telling other people about it.  Especially when they take the anal virginity of a bearded freak from an amish family. 

I don't fucking know. 

Shit (stuff) I don't care to know.  And everybody does something a little off, besides, so who's the freak, the amish, or the giggilo in the city who lives and dines at sex parties.  So Its all a Matter of Irrelevant Perspective as to Whom The Weirdos Really Are. 

Anyway, the whole point of this has gotten incredibly far away from me, at this point, this moment.

This moeee-ment.

Other than to say the whole wry humor and irony of this peice is that I'm mocking people for making no sense, when I'm just about making..

...just about...

...making no sense whatsoever.  Myself, that is.

Me.

Yeah, I know.

Shocker.

And no, not a dwarf in a cake with a bikini, either.

No that wasn't the first image.

Not some hairy little dwarf jumping out of a cardboard cake wearing a aqua colored bikini stretched over his pasty skin.

No.  Uh-uh.

Fuckin', big, mean assed pick-axe weilding motherfucker, that jumps out of your cake, that you were just dipping your head to smell the freshness of, cake.

Fuck.  That'll ruin your whole day. 

I wouldn't go outside after that went down.

Let alone having that mess of a nightmare being delivered to your house.

No, I wouldn't do that.

Not me.

Postage on that fucker would be crippling.

I sent you mail?

Jesus.