So, sometimes I wish I had named my blog "Writer's Block".
There is a frantic cook in my head, preparing a stew. It smells delicious, I am hungry and all I hear is "any minute now". This is the longest five minutes ever.
If you have never heard of the following "madmen", and you are inquisitive:
Nicola Tesla
Rudolf Steiner
Victor Schauberger
Wilhelm Reich
Yesterday I was a juicing fool. I juiced three large drinking glasses of fruit juice for lunch and two of vegetables for dinner. I feel spiritual.
I got up at five twenty six this morning. Should I play the lottery?
There is an elevator in my head and these elves send stuff up to the tip of my consciousness. If I send something back down, they get weird. Once I sent a story back down and when the elevator returned, out poured a party of skinheads that trashed my trailer. Those elves got me scared.
For M.:
A guy walks into a church office and announces to the receptionist that he wants to join "this here damned church."
Offended, the woman informs him that that kind of language is not appreciated.
"Well, I still want to join this damn church" he replies.
She gets up in a huff and enters the Preachers' office. Out comes the Preacher and asks the guy what the problem is.
"I just won 200 million in the lottery and want to get rid of some of this money and I thought I would join this here damn church."
The Preacher's eyes pop wide and he says "And this bitch is giving you a hard time?!"
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About Me
- roberto kiam borderlineartist@gmail.com
- I live in a quaint, little town, plagued with the specter of speculation and commerce. I am trailer trash,with wishes for good dishes. I shoulda died long ago, but like a rescue dog, didn't. I am indescribably scattered. I speak three languages. I walk a tenuously, true path. I am lucky. For myself, for others. God, it is said, protects orphans, widows and the innocent.
2 comments:
who do you think operates the elvevator?
a young friar joins a long established church and as he sits over dinner with the aging church elders and the priest, they are effusive in their praise of a rare species of fish called a son of a bitch.
what a delicious son of a bitch the first elder exclaims!
yes indeed, the tastiest son of a bitch that ever crossed my palate, confessed the second elder.
and, the high priest chimed in proudly, you are not likely to run acoss another son of a bitch like this one in all of your travels!
oh my, sighs the rookie friar,greatly releived,
i think i'm going to like you fuckers after all!
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