Been living godless too long. Without a mission, without an enemy. Can’t live like that, because then you get bored, bored enough to finally notice just how shitty every single assault of the senses reality really is, you lose the game. Then he stares at you like you’re a fucking idiot, with his arms outstretched, his shame pointer arking like the Staff of Ra.
But what can you do? When you’re one of the rare few that’s persevering to be better? What can you do about wanting to be so winning that much more? To living free and always going some place new? To bounding anxiously being adored and demanded? What can you do about hoping the next leap brings you ready to face what’s in the mirror?
Them baffling boondoggling quagmires to banter during break about. Then you end up thinking too long what he is on and on about. Then it gets expensive as time gets brokered down like currency, because in a set and setting where money is going—going—gone after Geithner the Gutter had gypped it, you realize what’s really rare.
Next thing you know you’re thinking too long about something else. Something like how a magic mouse is wandering around too long quizzical and irked how new Tumblr works and wondering what the Tom Cruise just happened on South Park and who’s going to be the first YouTube Google homepage viral video star canon d replacement?
