Two Headed Monster

I used to want to have two heads and four eyes. I've tried it before, but it's never worked out exactly how I've imagined it could.

There are too many ways and times you can have the same conversation, and too many times I can sneeze. The couch is fighting me with some dust or mold or mildew that lives inside it, and I am on the verge of bummed. Jayson says that people in the military don't have allergies, and that I should join. Dallas says that it's time that I got an intern, and also that I should sell compact discs in the street. Most everyone else says that I should shave, and the heat says they're probably right. I'd be as happy a man as possible if all it took was carrot juice and rhythmic speech. No lie. Stranded. Carrot Juice, talk: perfect.

This is actually not a bad conclusion to come to, because speech-related insomnia has been visiting me for weeks, and the beta-carotene is supposedly sharpening my night vision. This makes dodging the skunks and coyotes much easier while wandering around the neighborhood. I've been meaning to get a laser gun in case i get attacked.

I sorely miss anthony lowe and his bookbag full of spraypaint and cigarettes and wine. Not to be overlooked are his long and thoughtful opinions on the way things are, mixed in with truly unpretentious quotes from literature and perverse versions of southern aphorisms. He's truly a dude that makes the good life good.

So yeah. Two heads, four eyes. I figure, if I'm watching out behind you, and you're watching out behind me, we can see the whole picture. Pretty crazy.

your boy.