I feel kinda selfish, always writing and making up silly shit. Artists are selfish that way, but I’m not even an artist and really not many people are any more. Perhaps that’s what is to become of us all. A bunch of vain bores whose only art is our absurd unfounded narcissism.
Like a rock screaming into a mirror, “I’m so fucking hard, baby!”
Its so obvious, yet so mesmerizing, I mean the rock could smash the mirror but then he’d have to pay attention to reality and reality is a mushy mess. Not hard and smooth, like rock.
Sorry, prattling on again… where was I? Oh yeah, me! Yeah, I’m pretty neat. So let me pretend to care about each and every one of you, when I ask, “How are you?” and while you are jabbering away I’ll just be zoning out and thinking about me, and how fluffy and giggly I am.
