No past - this is present fix. Or eternally repaired. Golden.
It's been awhile. States of apathy are golden and hard to acheive. The currency on benzo apathy is especially high this season. This season of anxiety. Someone said it was "angsty" if i recall correctly. Seven valerian capsules = apathy, for about an hour.
So I'm just using the augmentors that I've incorporated, on an ad-hoc basis, thus far.
My own music, my own environment. I'm grooving on self-created feedback loops of personal positive aiming associations. Or some euphemism like that. Does that make sense to you? If so, you quality for application to Jonathan Craque's inner circle. Congrats, motherfucker. It's a season in paradise, whatever that passes for, in Colorado. The blue lodge of cabin fever, colorado, the rocky mountain high. I distinguish between maniacs and crazy people. I think it's true, I am going, slowly, schizo - every day I have more to be paranoid about. That's no fun. But it is what it is. Where's my seroquel? Maybe someday, I'll take the zombie trip.
I like the idea of hearing lyrics distort, according to whatever the architecture of my brain might be at the moment. Funhouse mirrors are appealing.
So now it's dram No. 2. That seems profound to me. If gravity fails. I just second guessed something. Might as well report that. Okay. Mini golf. Don't tell me too much information, or I'll enclose, get all cryptic - but I'll bust out with the main vein of plainchant and revelent sayings - pity for non delirius beings - is that a statement that would raise suspicions of a state boundary shift? yeah, probably -- it is what it is, so it goes, et cetera -- a drowning corpse, chained -- sorry to get all cinematic on you - if gravity lulls, we'll put a man on the moon in 69 -- a got accolades, it's good when people respect, even if they call it abstract - but where do i fit in - where do you? maybe, don't worry about it, so much -
maybe eat some donuts, and miss-hear lyrics. scuse me while i kiss this guy.
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