and then went down to the ship

that's pretty crazy about lab rats. i prefer sugary things too. i guess we must share the same genetic code. did you know that humans share 99.9% of the same genetic code? hard to believe. that's why i don't. they be hating on my style. gotta counteract. new beginnings, fresh starts, facebook. mini feed. you know what i'm going to say about that. don't respond with a heckle, you sardine mustard face. tomorrow I may go to the Natural History Museum with my father. imagine that. I know I am. that '70s show marathons this weekend were good, exciting, fr-fr-fresh (friggity wee-bop). can't take the heat of my insane designs. collaborating and collapsing at the same time! oh no, refridgerated mushroom cauliflower soup is sprinkling my head with rainbow showers. too bad mohammed wasn't there to see it, but I did hit him up for a falafel with wally wall the viscious killer with his Black Magic. Yeah, you know, foo. packing good, going well enough, but soon in the high time the minions drone on and on, waiting for the solemn ending song to finish them away. activities for the new year, classes, these things are on my mind and interest me philosophically. what of the other things? social awkwardness from being ostracized in dewolfe? gatherings? sophomore get-togethers? what will I say in all of my grandiose toasts with cabernet savignon and colt 45 moustache top-touchery? tom foolery, y'all. just timberlake, antacid pills, caliber nitrate solution soluble enzymes. can't debilitate my rhymes. in rhythm as it flows like Greek and natural solo. mumbojimbo. been readin' poe short stories. they are good. I recommend "gold bug" and "x-ing a paragrab." both classic, one long one short, cut to the chase, mac daddy spleen. Bodies exhibit--too graphic for these virgin eyes. fetuses all dead and rubberized, nasty things like cancer and goiter. sexy chinamen with the flesh melted off and muscles preserved, holding american footballs. wonder what the world comes down to, huh? money and cash, hos, entrepreneurial skill sets and street smarts. little kids get swept away, wind swept into the sea. small fish small fries, they all wish they want to die. morbid thoughts? chicken salamander throat weasels, evil kneival, kneisel hall and books of self-mastery. jet li like a tiger makes you fearless even over death. I thought it was impossible, but in this human life we don't go on and on. one day perhaps I'll flit about along the tongues of men, my body ash and spirit wasted dust beneath the ground. sometimes it seems that we are all preoccupied with the individual, when really look at the ant and how the race lives on through all these years. when will we have time to procreate? master plans and fish farming all consume the expendable energies of a weary animal world. toil, toil, double double boil. trouble's hear and that's all I'll say. you know that you wish that you could that you might be one day a storyteller too? well, fiddle-de-doo.