Wednesday, September 19, 2007

I am a chemical ball, etc.

I must apologize for it has been quite some time since my last note. Rest assured I am still alive and kicking. But bear with me, dear Reader, for these notes are not mere simulacra of Truth and Beauty that I toss off over my tea break. Oh no. They are spittings from my gut, from my core. So if perhaps my words occasionally taste of bile, it is because Truth is not polished Hollywood-style; rather, it consists of the vomiting hobo as well as the merry Everyman and his picture-postcard famille. In fact, the hobo is closer to the core than the Everyman, as his mind is uncluttered by the world and its stream of propaganda (last time I checked, the typical box-car does not contain the ubiquitous plasma screen or even the apparatus necessary to plug such a device into an alternating current).

But tit for tat, as the hobo's mind is unfortunately cluttered by the soot and dirt he inhales as he catches "the drift." The more I think about it, the more I realize we are all little more than chemical balls...

Helga has quit her post. I miss her blonde beauty and the various duties she performed. I wish I could say that she moved on because opportunity knocked, but alas, the blame is entirely Myoki's. Myoki, you Buddhist turd! Why must you make yourself a guru to every acquaintance you make? You are a bastard and no longer welcome in my home. Find another swimmer, you leach. That is not chi you suck on, 'tis my blood, you meditating, bloodsucking baboon.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Nigel you old bastard - it's Connery again.

Lishen, our old friends from the old country are coming down to the manor for a visit this weekend of North American native and pilgrim relations celebrations and my staff are preparing a feast for the occasion. Bring your opium pipe and some absynthe.