……. continued ……….
As a kid, I thought food was sweet like skirts and socks, and ever since I was seventeenish, food has become something dirty, like math and religion, although I know once I’m old like you guys, I’ll only see food as the means and output of labor, as humorless coprophagia, something in the tone of Tarr on tranquilizers, but, it’s alright, when I’m dead, I’ll think of food as pretty body-particles, like dandruff and helium and bloody good oral sex.
If a joke takes you longer than a breath or two to get out—ITS NOT LONGER FUNNY!!!
Woman sitting next to me: “…and it’s the weirdest thing, I never smoked a day in my life, I actually abhorred the stuff—“ Me, smoking reds in the waiting room while playing with the bead maze table because I have nothing better to do on a Tuesday afternoon: “OH? OH YOU THINK YOURE BETTER THAN ME WITH YOUR RANDOM UNDESERVED LUNG CANCER? HUH? HUH? WELL, YOU ARE! YOU JUST ARE!”
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