The god damn internet knows that I want a Jazzmaster.
As I’m looking at pictures of cats, on Reddit,,there’s a little box with gorgeous deep blue Jazzmasters..
A game.
You see how they play you?
Do you see it?
Do you see how people have hacked into your own psychology?
You better not,,
You’d better not let them do that to you.
Because they will…
(Hey…)
Hey?
(It’s raining)
Glory hallelujah !
It’s fuckin raining!!
The rain dance works!
I manifested it with my mind!
(By blessing the ants with a doughnut)
Oh the rain,, i love the sound of it.
(We really have been spending most our lives,,living in a gangsta’s paradise..)
I believe in the heart of our nation.
I believe at the core, we will one day see what is right and what is true..
(This is about white rappers?)
Yes!
I think one day,,we will admit how embarrassing it is.
(I have a dream!!)
I have a dream, that a human will realize that he can love an artform,without thinking it belongs to him.
That he can look at a group of people, and he can sincerely feel and appreciate what was created, without thinking he has ANY business with it.
THe death of theft.
THe most deaf death of theft.
Swept and perplexed …
(You stupid)
ANd unmuteable.
I rigged it this certain way, you see?
I muted the world before the world could mute me, therefor,,,I have something for life.
I have a place, untouchable and exalted .
(Kinda clever…)
For a nobody,, yes,, pat myself on my back for that…..
God damn I love the rain.
The plants were so thirsty!
The grass was dying and there was a mother fucking blow dryer in the sky!
It was blowing hot wind on me..
Thank you, universe, god, the father of Abraham and Issac And Jacob..
Praise be to you, spaghetti monster,
I think It’s because I’m wearing a Bill Maher shirt from Club Random.
God saw me wearing an atheists shirt, and he was like “oh yeah?”.
But I know we’re cool.
Because he knows me.
He ACTUALLY knows me..
Not like all this fake shit you’re on about.
And the rain comes through, and some primal desire is quenched.
Rain is life.
It is life giving.
You should appreciate it, you surface level mother fuckers.
—-
I bought a device, for reading old hard drives.
You see, in my storage building I have a stack of old hard drives.
Years and years worth of digital information.
On one of those hard drives is 5 years worth of journal entries.
Thousands,, literally thousands.
On drugs, on psychotropic medication, in love, in pain.
I’m scared to read it, but…
I can remember at least 5 or 10 good entries.
Learning to,,shit how to phrase,, learning to “open up”.
Learning that openness is a true thing, and a person can have it.
Learning that everyone has levels,,
Learning the wrong way to do things,
Flirting with madness,,
I need to dig through it, and I absolutely own the fact that it’s garbage.
A huge pile of garbage.
But…
In that pile,, if the stars lined up…
I think there’s a few good ones in there.
Part of me wants to find them…
Also guitar riffs, and pictures,, any creative nonsense.
Digging through old hard drives.
I typed some pretty real love letters, I do remember that. Because I was in love.
I wrote about monster, wrote about feelings, all that gay stuff.
(That you should keep to yourself?)
Pish Posh, we do how we do.
Coming from the church, I am well versed in the concept of “judgement”.
(And our developing relationship)
Yes,, that too.
The stronger one protecting the inner child.
(Sword and shield)
Spiritual levels…
Hmmmmm…
dawn 