journey to the center of the gobstopper

tired - gobbing on a gobstopper - starting to choke - adjust your oxygen mask before that of your child - can the kid make it on his own? he's attached, in a childlike way - my back aches - why did i go for the gobstopper? it's not quite gusto - my gusto helmet's in the closet

downtime, getting things, things, done, i think, are they things? more to come - a sweet and sour path with swiss chalet sauce - everything's a dipping area, everything gets dipped - phil lesh still keeps blotter acid in his underwear - i keep getting email telling me which houses i missed on my delivery route - inconsistent

this gobstopper is a futile mission, i'll stop it when i can find a place to jettison the cargo - unfortunately, my garbage can lacks a bag - i don't want to move - i'm frazzled, but not in a horrible way - just a dull chaos throb - starting to choke on gobjuice again - jonathan - my name is called

unwittingly, i smell the mire again - it outwits me, an acid base - why does this stink continue to hover around me? this aura decided to emanate, just lately - amid cleaning chores - the gobstopper won't stop, just a slow dissolve, surgery without anesthesia, angel of death, four hundred thousand more to die - who am i to say that slayer guitar riff trivializes the holocaust? nordic rage - fucking sounds like bucket

deputized to take soft authority, but i try to empathize with the kid - he's cute - souls come in small sizes too - he has to get up in the morning and go to school - i remember when i had to go to school - some days it caused me dread that i've never known since - now i have coping mechanisms, but i have more things to dread - i empathize with the unidyllic reality of childhood

now i reconnect through the reading of bedtime stories - i still rely on that coping mechanism - libravox audiobooks as sleep aids - well,