Found this on my parents' fridge the other day:
Not sure what my sister and I are praying to, or what the pink bunny did to deserve to be sacrificed, but at least we let him dress up nice for the invocation.
One of the witnesses aligned on the left side of the shot is the baby doll I insisted on having for years.
Special evil children.
Haven't written, ran, or drank coffee in almost a week now. I am beginning to feel myself sink into glurr room.
Other things are happening inside me, I feel the synthesis of these three clips:
Something just exploded in the shed.
Can I get a job burning shit for a living?
Let's stop talking about the making of the words, please?
"I'll stop if you will."