Diet Gemini baby, Downtown Winnetka

The simple rule with Geminis and Cancers is that if they popped in your mind once, you’ve popped into theirs seventeen times prior.

They’re a bit closeted and needy, though if you enjoy their company it doesn’t matter. Guys or gals, they have this weird combo, stay to yourself and accidentally find yourself being in need for another. For some reason particularly, the ones that don’t like to be needed, the Geminis.

I’m computer oriented, so when I see a list of 67 tools to analyze your text writing style and other indicators I get excited and pop a piece like this in without hesitation, but you can’t analyze disorder like this and hope to get any sort of orderly output for analysis.

Wig Out At That Crustacean

you instantly feel feel start start feel feel better.
zing zong zimbobwey said the man to the goat,
lets play a board game the goat replied.

moth in my popsicle maker
mmm moth pop, better than cherry.

Rowena you facetious fascist of a steam iron,
Unscrew your cap and let me in.

Santigold said, work on finding a woman you vaguely like.
Who names their child Santigold? I thought.

88 words and early morning hangover, I miss that which is known as chikita company, instead I turn to fast company. A magazine of which I am still uncertain the purpose of.

Don’t push your Siracha Salmon on me Gwyneth,
fig or lit, I have no interest. Figuratively or literally, none.
Nor do I really care for figs at the supermarket or dry literature about alaskan huskies and their masters snow journal.

Riding around on a snow leopard, that’s my dream,
Maybe I’ll achieve it, first I must deal with money.
Plane flights cost bills.

Cripple crab named Shatner, crutching along to get his shat done.
Even he, they tell me, has no excuse
to avoid court.

Time to go squeeze the life out of a tomato and
sprinkle the resulting massacre with salt and pepper.

Le Quack says Le Duck.

I was simply not wired for the nitty grittyness of society. It was simple with drinking, I drank and them and their weird tendencies slowly faded. I burned bridges like crazy. I was effectively, a serial bridge burner. An arsonist of the social variety. I think it is alright though, these were class C people anyway, perhaps this was good stomping grounds to gather preparedness for the class A people of a further down the line life. Alls I know is that new age-dy girls from commonwealth states were not exactly lining up to get to know me.

Not her though. She with her name, which for some reason had the same letter repeated twice in the beginning. She was a class A individual for sure. Witty and pretty. Jealous, but I will forever find that sort of thing awkwardly irresistible. In that, society deems it a total taboo that I should get all aroused over someone being so protective of my like, but I am whos I be am.

There was a time, and then you know, there was a time. Now was not that time. Frankly, then was not that time either but you force what pieces you can into the slots forced on you.

Social surgery of the variety that says, time to take a knife to certain people in your life, because qualities of theirs disgust you. There was one nice scorpio girl I would definitely show up to the birthday of. But it was two weeks away, and before that I would morph into a repulsive reclusive and finish with my various government ordered responsibilities.

There’s a guy I know named Frank, Fuck him. Fuck Frank, figuratively speaking of course. For I would not Fuck Frank if I were a female even. Females don’t Fuck Frank by the Seashore.

Hey little water droplet, why aren’t you dropping. Forming micro-cultures and shet? Yes sir, tiny worlds of culture, where a different form of art will be formed and things will be forever wet.

Java’s a Spy

Imagine sitting down in a nice miniature black metallic table, must be from IKEA.

Looking down at your coffee (take the lid off, seriously it’s coffee, they shouldn’t be hiding its appearance from you, it has an appreciable look to it.)

So anyway, upon removing this corporate imposition of a lid on top of your Starbucks cup;

Made for the man on the go, fuck that guy;

You should sit down and enjoy your coffee, it’s a duty of yours.

You have to enjoy the little points of relaxation like that. Don’t ever let anyone take them away from you. Don’t approach it from the standpoint that you deserve it. Who’s to say if you do or don’t, that’s an endless argument you could have with them and yourself, and who has time for any MORE arguments with themselves I say.

I approach it from the angle of it being the humane thing to do.

We often talk about being humane towards animals. We forget, that the word humane stems from the word human.

Sometimes I think someone wants us to forget that we should be humane towards our human selves.

The same way you lay out food for your pooch or cat in the morning and watch as they enjoy it at whatever pace they please and with pure uninterrupted happiness, so should you find time for your own small joys.

After all, first and foremost, you are the owner of yourself before being the owner of any other creature and I think we can all agree that watching our pet friends always-perfect joy at meal time gives us some small morning happiness. A hard thing to find in the morning. A smile on our hearts.

Imagine how it could if be we allowed ourselves the simple joys of that sort more often.

Don’t take the time to find the time, chillaxify brethren.

They want you to think that we’re all just one big crowd. Or two parties, or the two sexes, or one of these “ethnicities” they’ve layed out and you can bubble in, but we’re all interesting separate existing entities , with unique thoughts and connections between our feelings and those thoughts.

So remember the humane thing to do.

Don’t let them convince you that you’re part of the 23-32 blue white collar this-color that-sex demographic.

Imagine looking down after the lid has been taken off and seeing a tiny person in there. A spook in a light brown suit.

I got a shill in my Java.

Does anybody else get the distinct impression from Java that if there was one technology that really put you in the driver seat that it’s Java. It can really pull some stuff off on a guests computer.
I just repaired the disk permissions on my Mac. You know that shit where it goes around looking for files that are out of wack on who is AND isn’t allowed to open them.
It went down the list, Java everywhere. Someones in my Java, the humanity.