Snow Trek - the next veneration:

I know how it looks. But honestly. Your honor. On the evening in question, persay. I was sitting in class, with nothing to say. And anyway. Everything will shortly shatter. Into a hundred giant gestalts. Give or take a dozen.

I could slather my nu-paradygm personality all over everything. And what is not forbidden is mandatory. According to this slithering seventies cum nu millenium metaphysics. Which works for me and you, as long as you consider me uncircumcised - I'll misdirect you, during my physical nordic examination, by claiming my tooth is KILLING me, I mean, I may be a fine upstanding youth, revering the fuhrer like any sane person, but my TOOTH hurts, and I must be serviced, and despite the losses on the eastern front, we've got good dentists here in berlin - and that faggot won't fondle my balls, not when my perfectly good molar is sending imaginary tentacles of pain sent by jehovah, whoever he is, who coached my performance, and damn, was is good, so good, it was never even nominated for an oscar, but is on the CBC foreign film late night loop, and what more could anyone ask for?

And it says more about myself than anything else, self-cannabilization tastes like a bad hot dog, but the gray poupon is to die for.

And once you've moguled the bumps on the bunny hill single diamond, nevermind the powder in the trees, i'm not one to poeticize about that, i just gawked at the gawkers, gawking at the trees, smugly skiing my ass to and fro, here and there, back when i had the confidence and care to embark on such schemes, and non-sarcastic love of the snow

but i'll maximize experience in words, even if it hurts to think, with brain cells swelling, and chemical reactions, i won't recite neurological poetry, but you know, i'll prolly improvise some, until sigor tells me not to