||[Dec. 12th, 2004|11:28 am]
|||||choose your illusion? never.||]|
|||||crown me king- phantasmagory.||]|
so last night for carla's birthday...carla made us dinner. kinda frankly though, my favorite part was the anti-pasta. but you know, i still (forever & always) resent eating. i feel like i have intellectualized it to a point where i can enjoy it though. like, in my brain there is a caveat that gets added to me saying "this tastes good" that goes something like "for wreched food, which my weak flesh must have to continue." i don't know, its not a big deal? i just don't like feeling my guts working. i don't like being aware of my digestion. being aware i'm alive, i guess. anyhow, after the bitching anti-pasta, there was a salad with walnuts & apples & all kinds of shit that was fun, then lasagna. as usual, by the time there was cake, i was too full. i mostly really don't like sweets. yuck. sugar & what have you. (coincidentally, i'm on the team of not giving kids any sugar). after dinner we stayed drinking cocktails & playing charades until what, four am, five? early ass in the morning. seriously, charades are funny as fuck. oh, we gave carla her present, a three pack of hot chocolates form disney world; they each have a princess on them, & they turn the hot chocolate diffrent colours! the sleeping beauty one turns pink, the snow white one turns purple, & the cinderella one turns blue. i think i have that right. the ride home was slick- hardly any train-retards.
or to put it another way. fuck your tiger, poet-boy, i'm your fucking tiger, & i burn black. mordicai my name the stars my destination. we put it in gear, rolled on up to the haunts of the upper east, mystic fucking orient of manhattten. its like fucking tibet above 70th street. i shot a few caps at the dali lama, then tucked in quick to the monastary of messires smith & wesson, miss carla & formerly mister drew. our enemies were laid before us & we feasted on them. when our canibalistic urges subsided, we entertained each other with parlour games. rather than whist we elected to pantomime! a frightfully good time for us spooks! then at last, as the sun peaked over the horizon, split into beams by dark towers, we descended to our subterreanean electrical carriage, & were off in a jiffy! our bellies filled with soft liquors, navels glimmering like lamps.