This is a hot, sticky night, cold desert nights are a myth. Suffocation, and the smell of vodka and pineapple juice is not leaving my tshirt. Hairs, too many hairs on my head and they are tired and dying moist, sweaty deaths on my neck, my itchy, salty neck, the one that I would like to cut off and cover carefully with a sheet of cellophane and store in the freezer for 3-4 hours. Allow to set and serve with whipped cream and a sprig of mint on top.
This taste of salt is everywhere, and MY GOD, WILL EDDIE VEDDER SHUT UP NOW RIGHT NOW, iTunes, iTunes, pause! Pause pause PAUSE pause pause!!!!!!!! Oh no, it hangs, oh please don't hang my project is open like a bombay duck sliced into half on a cold dead slab like itself, but not a slab, a fish, adjust as per taste, and Crawford Market is a smelly, smelly place. Don't believe them when they say it's Historic, because what use is Historic when there is Smelly? They try to con you with that OO LOOK IT'S HISTORIC PLEASE OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND MAKE APPROPRIATE AWED NOISES at Agra too, but you just say I don't care if it's historic, I'm not going in there and two people are dead in there and there is no eternal love cos there's no bloody romance when you're bloody smelly. Being dead is secondary, or tertiary or even quaternary because you have saat janam anyway but I don't know what comes after quaternary or I would have said it.
If Kurt Vonnegut wasn't an angry man I shall be disappointed with fate, because I Vonne Gut someone too, but I was not blessed with a name like that, was I? No. It would make everything so convenient, like who are you? i am Vonnegut and what do you want? i Vonne Gut.. that is hilarious, that is. LAUGH.
If I could do a keg stand, would it be worth it if I were teetotalled? No. I would have to be totalled. That just goes to show you not to aspire for things that are not within your grasp. ..Grasp is SUCH a satisfying word to say, like 'debilitating' and 'ridDONKulous', which is the way 'ridiculous' should be said, but it is MY way and if you say it like that without my permission I will shoot you with a Colt .22 cos I have no aim, and That Person says you don't need to have aim to shoot with a Colt .22. That other one said I'd suck at shooting too, but that's what they told Gandy before he put on his dishcloth and went to London to see the Queen. Pussy cat, pussy cat what did you do there? I executed my diplomatic responsibility, but that doesn't fucking rhyme now, does it?
Anyway, that's not what they told Gandy, they told Gandy he SHOULD shoot but he said he didn't wanna.
Happy birthday Gandy.
Oh your birthday was three days back. Oh shitttt.
Oh no, oh no, Vitamin B...