Tonight, after vast amounts of coffee and reefer, I decided it would be a good night to play "pretend". So I pretended to be Andy Warhol and just dove into work for work's sake and painted two MAGNIFICENT paintings and thus averted any angry or homicidal thoughts I am sometimes prone to. I never have suicidal thoughts.I want to live to wreak vengeance on the "confederacy of dunces" who have made being ME so fucking...uh, INCONVENIENT!!!!! 

HEY !!!! Is anyone reading this ? This is top drawer shit. 

Anyway...

How much of our lives should we REALLY spend merely shaking off our circumstances and conditioning ? Actually I did okay till about my mid 30s when I realized I was not going to be allowed back into the Middle Class where I came from and then it hit me like space debris.I panicked and "got religon" which was more mental illness than anything and finally wound up in the booby hatch for a fortnight and on anti-psychotic meds (zombie pills) for another four years. 

I'm MUCH better now though. 

Zen Tennis anyone ?  

My earliest chidood memory is of falling off of a playground type merry-go-round and being only aware of my hands and the color RED as I hit the ground. I didn't cry but was very quiet for the rest of the day. Why would I remember that , I ask you eh ? 

So what's it going to be then oh my droogs ?  

I await your reply. That and HELL FREEZING OVER !!! 

Yours in the Veriness of it All.

Baba O'Klaatu (as told to Steamboat Jim)