When you remember keeping your parents address longer so you could continue voting against Newt Gingrich who was coming for your brother’s happiness.

Fourty-f$&king-what? You’d think I’d have breathing down by now.

When everything you’ve touched over the last twenty two hours turns sideways.

Out of nowhere, puffins be closing the gap on my flying foxes.

Teach people how to make the sauce.

Sorry, Claire, I was over you being stunned four years ago. Back to bats.

I wonder when, precisely, was that point in time that it became more difficult for humanity to keep the light out than to bring the light in.

Fresh armchair (couch, in honesty) theory: the aforementioned lateral thinking training, which leverages everything we detest about Lazy ADHD, installs the very neural pathways utilized by everything we celebrate about Creative ADHD. You can’t make darkness without light.

I wish I had done better at being a bridge between popularity and pocket protectors when I was in high school.

Wanna max out that Lateral Thinking attribute for your character’s latest build? Add some undiagnosed ADHD (27 years’ll do) and then try accruing fourty-fucking-something years pivoting out of any action your character ain’t in the mood for.

If you’re wondering, given my reach, with whom I imagine myself to be speaking when posting this shite… it’s myself.

If you’re wondering how that could possibly be true for the post we are currently in the process of reading together right now, I’m with you.

When you realize you aren’t sure what sets jet black apart from black

Sorry, Mika, cross-bubble contrast requires a shared reality within which to perceive it.

Evidence of the global bifurcation within social media countries keeps on washing up.

Globally, I wonder how many babies will explode today in the background.

That tracks

GDit, now my inner dialogue is transmitting via musical and I think I traced the GD tune back to the Wizard of Oz - If I Only Had a Brain

When you remember you failed whatever that stupid writing comprehension crap they make you do before officially signing off on your two-year core being satisfied in some American Universities (I remembered because I was recalling the last time you have to play 5¶ essay before becoming a real boy).

Christ on a cracker
How many fucking haiku
Have I written now?

I wonder why I
Wonder preferred to knowing
I fucking wonder

I suppose even-a-broken-clock syndrome is more tolerable in Europe.

It’s kinda bizarre, the asshole you start feeling like when you’re the only one propping up your own self-confidence (the folks you pay to help prop both give and take… they give you a little confidence ‘til you remember they take your money to do so).

He who praises himself generally does so
Only because no one else will volunteer – Waldo Japussy, The Tao of Meow

Wait, how could we truly ascertain the smell of something solid?

My god y’all think he’s running dead even, guess I’m watching bats again.

It’s kinda shite that we allow destruction to be both an antonym and a synonym for creation