entia

Don’t write

All it does is pull eyes on you. And then the daggers flit out of the eyes to poke at you. And then time passes and then whether or not somebody gets you… death comes one way or another. That’s how I see it. Life and then death.

Been thinking about gluten-free pie. Can’t remember the name of the pie, but I can picture it. It’s the orange color. Something on TV put the picture in my mind. Gluten-free crusts never taste as good as a normal crust. But normal makes an abnormal person rub his/her scalp repeatedly until hair falls out. It’s very easy to pass as normal. It is pushed into you until all your hair is gone and you look like a weirdo. Then normal becomes abnormal.

People write for all different reasons. Can’t remember what pushed this out of me. Maybe it’s like a crap build-up that pushes out on its own. Once it’s out, there is a bit of relief, and then an online site like this can be a toilet.

The only toilets that are fun are the kind that have snakes crawling up and scaring the rest of the shit out of the sitter-shitter. Or is the proper term shitter-sitter? Those kinds of stories are the only ones I really like. That is why I’ve turned from being a reader of French and English literature to being a TV fan. Junk TV is the best. I don’t think there is a station by that name, but there should be.

Aren’t prolific writers just word hoarders? Word word word on and on like an addiction. Where is the freedom? The brain slowly shuts down in something like 1/3 of the population. Maybe that is the road to freedom. The brain says, “Okay. You never were very bright so I’m giving you an out.” And after that you lose interest in playing Scrabble and you even grow a belly. But you don’t care and actually find humor in odd places.

Is this an odd place? I can’t remember.