mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli
mordicai

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Dear Jenny Lewis is the new Dear Mister Henshaw.

All this grey around is real...suspicious. Can you believe this chunk of wall is trying to...sneak up on me!? Listen guys I am pretty much like a robot whose tick-tocker got replaced with a bunch of angel guts so I am hip to this scenario, this situation. You are going to get up earlier to go fishing with my rod! Or my worms, all my delightful & precious worms! Okay, they aren't all that dear to me. You can have them, take them away from me! Really I am trying to keep my even keel; I am not rocking the boat! Jenny calls me & says "you better not be mean to my husband!" to me. I am not! Getting sort of drunk & lonely is a lovely way to spend an evening (if you hate being alive). Plus, there is all this crayfish flavoured rum! It is the taste of real crawdads! Oh sigh, I am not miserable. She comes home tomorrow, she'll be here for the sleeping. I only had two of those dreams that grip you, reach inside your bones & they are telling you- your bones are the antenna-- they are sending those signals & you wake up & you can't breathe & you well, you can't, can you? You can't. Meanwhile, the Jenny Lewis article on Wikipedia is hot-pants-a-riffic. Dude. She sings songs about going to war with heaven. Really? Nobody write music I like! Or does anything I like. Because the only thing I like is going to war with heaven. Seriously, if you listen hard enough, that is what all her songs are about. I know, I can tell. Oh you know-- you know what? Jenny just called me! So now I am not nearly so sad; plus, this is the part of the song when Jenny Lewis goes to war against heaven. Hey, my wife is named Jenny & so is this musician I like-- coincidence? Only if you are dumb! I must love my wife double suddenly. Suddenly! From behind the pillar! With a gun-- a spectacular gun! it has gilt on it. Gilt-- not guilt, haha, I don't know anything about guilt.

Apparantly when things like ATMS & the stars are trying to tell you messages, you are supposed to call them delusions of reference! Or I guess you could call it being a warlock. I can't tell you about how a warlock or a wizard or whatever is different. It is complicated; some guys have better saves or whatever? Or whatever. I don't even have anything pretty to say; things are crowded around? You know, some people are on desert islands, I saw them on tv. I'm pretty sure I could take them in a fight, or in a "desert island" competition. Most of them anyway. You ever feel like that? Or really lonely, like, if don't even matter what else is going on? Wait, what is that called? Alienation versus Alien Nation. Argh, I'm back to sounding petty. I can't communicate; you can't even...shit. So paltry; but don't give up. You keep going up against the SourceWall dude, forget those Promethean dudes, you can probably cut a deal with some other god-guy. Get some element X or whatever. Put it in the soup. Or whatever. Shit is getting haunted over here. Man that bed is looking full of trouble. Hey, lets do that whole trick-- where you are like, that sounds terrible-- it was that Tom Greene thing with his nuts-- flip it! I can't get enough of being doubtful of reality! I put it in my wedding vows!
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