Bang.

I think you’ve been taking too long. No, nothing is wrong with me today.
I just like my life when its fast, from a to b. 16 to z.
Plus I just sat three hours in some music festival for you and, well.
You still wanna wait in line for one more 60 seconds to get autographs from commons.
Autographs you get from superheroes n shit. People who save babies from trees.
Not the fuckers who asked how that baby got there, none of your business.
Now pay no mind to my impatience (its just a side effect from too much coffee, and not enough cigarette)
And I can still taste that dinner we had that I forgot to pay for. We jetted so quickly my dear, oh the modern romance.
But I wont get in the way of your important business that I simply will never understand.
Had I only been patient and had I only sat through those four years, id know accounting.
Simply had to choose art, didn’t i?

So now we sit here looking at eachothers faces in the space shuttle car with its little trinkets and air conditioner, automatic shifting. A lot of crap in the back makes it a little harder to take it past making out tonight. But I think neither of us is ready for such a strange adventure into each others genitals. You look beyond me wishing we could escape to somewhere really nice. And I look at the individual rain drops on the window counting them to see how many on average sit there when it rains. We don’t have the courage to stay in the car because we hate going home. So its doors open and doors locked to walk another two blocks into whatever is out there. I think maybe a gift shop, or a thrift store, perhaps a cool trinket store. You think a sex shop (for laughs), some guy can jump out and stab me in the stomach to leave me there watching you get sexually violated, or pigs could be stubborn on us. Its always negative meets the positive around this skyscraper sorrounded piece of earth. And all I want is an apartment, with a nice stainless steal kitchen I always see in the nice shows I watch. And that full prismacolor marker set I always dreamt of.
My girl wants rebellion while I want a cup of joe and a pack of smokes.
Strange how we’ve always been the same way since kids, only at some point the toys changed classification and placement in a store.
If only I could raise the courage to perform “dancing in the rain” a little more, I just might be a cool cat.
Too lazy though.
Too fuckin lazy.
While everyone seems to tell me I need to find a place in life I sit on my bed watching the ceiling change shapes and colors and streaming through my mind I find nice things like cereal and charlie & the chocolate factory. Its been a long time since ive painted anything so bizzare. Its been a while since ive had sex too. But that’s a plus most of the time, I don’t like being like everyone else anyways. The f-1 gp is gonna be happening soon. And im still a little seasick. So let us all retire to our beds and forget all that happens in one day to say you never did it before the next. Its how we think, and react to shit that’s meaningless in reality. You want the world to turn, do it yourself. All I know is I wanna go to a foreign country, eat their chocolate, kiss their most beautiful hopeless girls. Not fuck, that word connects to something very meaningless and not anywhere near my style of being. I like it a little simple. Plus im tired of going to three hour shows with girls I sometimes wonder if I even remember a name from. But that’s life, no? And everyday prooves walking a little swifter when thinking exactly how many “bang bang”s you need to die these days. But I always end up slowing down when I see those dream girls crawling in a corner with theyre faces covered in tears, I wish I could cheer them up. But I feel that’s pointless in my position as stranger. Although they do look amazing in those colorful outfits and converse. On my way close to home I see a prostitute hanging over a car acting actually very friendly, it was a strange view that became stranger when I noticed the car had an evangelical sticker on the back. She had a cliché skirt, made me think about a million funny movies that most of which I never even saw. I bet she smelled like post opened fanta cans and weeks unwashed crotch. But its not my style to stop and ask to sniff. So I just head home as always.
Getting home deserves a small dance against the rain of tomorrow so the beach may be accessible. I don’t need to plant anything, so I don’t need rain. Its nice to watch the city late through the window. The lights, the couples, the creepers that smell like dirt and ask for money and sleep on the streets. Or I can go to the other window and watch the beach, maybe grab binoculars and get myself over 100 channels through apartments. But im always too lacking in motivation to find the binoculars in the first place, so I do little duets with the canary sitting in the kitchen. Sometimes it would be really nice if I could just free that little dude, he probably came here through a truck. Meaning hes probably never seen the beach. That must suck. Im still not getting sleepy because sleep is something I rarely ever do. Theres so much to do in the inevitable situation that I sometimes forget where I am. But I leave traces.