When deep down you don't really believe in free will then what you end up doing when you aren't trying to do anything is as authentic a personal expression as what you do when you try really hard. What? That made so much more sense when I first thought it a few seconds ago, assuming I did. It's clearly gibberish as we now can see, all of us together. We. I do have some good thoughts but I have to be really horny first. Luckily I'm always really horny first. Arousal fine-tunes my mental functioning, right before it enshrouds it in a dense fog from which I never completely recover. When you wet the bed first it is warm then it gets cold. Or so I read in a book. The eroticism of trees is that you can gaze upon them and admire their beauty and stalwart longevity and yet you can also turn them into coffee tables and put magazines on them, magazines you don't even like, stupid magazines, and these two ideas don't seem the least bit incompatible. My eyes wrote a check my ass couldn't cash but my mouth floated me a little. I used to have a couple of minor second-tier physical assets. Not anymore. Remember, when all your friends are gone gravity will still be very attached to you. At the dentist they handed me big black sunglasses like old people wear and leaned me backwards and cruelly illuminated the big wet pink hole that dominates the lower half of my face, if they only knew what went in there and what comes out they wouldn't go near it, and right before they came at me with the syringe I was staring at this little dust bunny in the corner and thinking: what kind of dentist is this if there's dust on the floor?