Monday, May 10, 2010

do not buy 'Lemon Perrier'

i can't think of factual reasons - but i'm just telling you not to, obey. do not obey the citric fusions in carbonated water - it is haram, it isn't nice and tastes like would wonder how i know what pee smells like, but deep down - in each of your pre-conscious selves, you know what pee tastes like. you know how it sounds like, how it feels like, and things you like to do under showers of snow. but it is definitely colder than you would expect.

the things is, im not sure how to reciprocate the bouncing that is occuring in my head at the moment. today i was bombarded with a lot of things, similar to the day before that - and the propective days of my life - but with different artillery. i dont mind wars. they de-stagnify the economy, so be it.

so i'm downloading the SoapKills Live @ Circus concert ( - thank you PirateBeirut.. and i'm thinking of social depitome. how can you grap a social construct by the balls and kiss it? i am not sure. society is paranoid. now you see, Khaled gave me some Debord to read, and i feel pretty nice about everything - but today I took my sister to work.. part of her job happens in an office in a place called Dahr El-Meghr. Dahr El-Meghr, is not a place. it is something that has bred on its own flesh for some time now, that it knows nothing else to feed on, but its own corpse. there is no future for Dahr El-Meghr. there is no future for its people. it, as a thing, will spread its cancerous venom bit by bit, either via sperm or ovarian donations - either via rape or religious coitus, but it will only spread its pattern of construct. it will not move forward, it's forward is not forward.

i might want to propose a solution, but i am far too nice. in sites of social depitome, or constitutional degeneration, TNT. blow the whole thing up and start from scratch. urban planning never understood real cities - it tackled things to come, in attempts of pretentious reading of the 'past'.

solidere, i bow to you - you piece of odorless shit - oh magnificent fuck. come to me, into my arms - closer closer clo..

why do i hate complete works? i hate them. i am attracted to happening things, or dying things, but if things are not in an -ing state, i an revolted, i move back, slowly then quickly - and leave.
it is probably because of the overt route taken to reach a 'complete' - when the complete is the ignorance of limits, when going overboard is plausible.. the incomplete comes to the rescue - an object/concept/erection that allows you to want more out of it, without it needing anything more - the constant planning to - as opposed to plainly understanding makes it erotic.

hence, my desire to squeeze a lemon, into my Perrier, and as i drink, drop little droplets of this feast, on my chest -

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