I bought an artificial Christmas tree, something I said I would never do. Last year a friend of mine fed me grief pellets through my shame cage for buying real trees, dressing their corpse in decorations for a couple of weeks and then tossing it in the trash with old cabbage. Now I have a fake tree, an AI tree if you will; RU bot or not?
On the phone with me friend who gave me a Yoda puppet as a gift, I was playing with the little green zen machine when I placed him at the top of my machine tree where the angel or star usually goes and with about six inches of plastic covered tree wire inside him, I swear there’s a smile crept across his face; who better to inaugurate the yuletide season that an anally penetrated Yoda feeling young again? I say no better way.
I have been detoxing all day, as I have been under the weather after eating ‘food’ like pizza and french fries while home last week. Usually I call this the ‘mystical flu’; I don’t have congestion or cough or a fever; I just have a cryptic disequilibrium that causes me to feel chronically ill; this is a mild case; it used to knock me out for weeks; as my stomach and being have become more sensitive, going back to french fries can take a toll, and right now I am sort of awake, waiting for a revelation or two as happens when the mystical flu grabs me; I see something, have a single clarity that could only bee seen surrounded by fog; I’d rather wake up tomorrow and feel completely renewed and to hell with revelation. I’ll do that next week. I want to sleep but right underneath I can feel myself wrestling with wants and their authenticity and place in my life and body and invisible body;
getting dizzy…good night London.
