Friday, April 15, 2011

Let's put a shark in formaldehyde and call it art.

Is it odd for a person's demeanor to change just because they're getting older? Maybe it shouldn't even be phrased like that. I doubt I would even call it a change in demeanor. More like the loss of will to keep things pushed deep, deep inside.

For the longest time I was able to put things so far down, that it seemed as if they had vanished. I always thought of myself as strong willed. I guess it had the opposite effect, these hidden feelings. In the wake of my youthful kindness, I just want to punch things until either they or I break into tiny little pieces. It's who I am on the inside, angry, depressed, and confused. I am still kind. Just not very nice, is it is turning out. Perhaps it would be for the best if I stop pretending to be something I'm not. Nice, that is. I joke about serious things. I should just be serious now. A fart just had bad timing.

Speaking of bad timing, why is it that all the best bands around are releasing new albums and touring when I happen to live 8750708957238740570 light years from the nearest tour stop type city? It wouldn't be so bad, however gas prices are already hitting Xavier-wants-to-cut-out-his-own-bones esque levels, and are reportedly going to raise another 40% this summer.

Paragraph 1 + paragraph 2 + me deciding to be as sober as a new born + going on a diet = unhappy camper. It's the fluoride. I blame the fluoride.

End words,

~Xavier R.

p.s. Hash brown time, nyucca

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