mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli
mordicai

Phone Post:

VoicePost
741K 3:35
“Gentleman, that's what I am. And of course a gentleman has to vie for the lady's attentions and affections, which I'll do. The thing about it is, none of the issues at hand are jeapordizing the core kernel of self. I don't know where she thinks I draw the line of self and other? It's probably much much much closer to me, the whole not-being-James, but being-M, I'm that guy, and not this little skin left over. I'm more than that, and I'm more than that too, I'm a little glass ship [?], I'm a nice motherfucker. [sigh] Uh, anyhow, so yeah, I'm gonna keep the danger-is-my-middle-name thing, but I'm gonna parlay that into less of a care, where Jenny can, or like, where it doesn't become a burden. I don't know. I figure if I'm at full capacity, and thrust into danger, that's a lot safer than being, you know, intoxicated and then getting thrust into danger? Like, that's not as safe, right? It's more safe to be cognizant and like having danger. So I'll just have to do that. It's my plan, it's a good plan, it will win me the girl, who I have won, and live with. And the fact that I want to fight is pretty crazy, right? I mean, not that I, it's not that that part's crazy, it's that, where, how the whole thing works, shit, I keep getting distracted by little china boutiques [?] stuff. My point is that I care, and uh, that's weird, I usually am not invested in anything, cause I hate everyone and it's impossible to be invested in things when you, deeply deeply, if I despise them at their very roots. Instead, though, I have decided to be real invincible, and win twelve times, at least, twelve, thirteen, fifty times, just winning constantly, winning my girlfriend. And then she won't have any unhappiness. Right? Crap. The more I talk, the more I think I'm probably not making any sense. When I, like, read this, or listen to it sometime in the future and be like, god, oh that was the day I was so tired. My feet hurt. And I smoked a huge, huge fattie, a big ol' billy blunt. Boom. Ahh, okay, no. No. [pause] The performers you are about to see are real, they are not grinning scarecrows, sent here to torture and manipulate you. No. They have a sand shovel, it's true! Five sand shovels [??]. They use them as a tool, they turn over Steve McQueen's sandbox and reveal the gold of Solomon, it's true, they have it, they've used it in order to provide themselves with lovely parting gifts. And, then, what? Where am I? There's no salad bar here. [off-stage] ...No salad bar here...[trailing off]”

Transcribed by: aslant
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