Monkey Poop.


Writing a book is harder than I thought. What I am enjoying thought is I have found myself procrastinating from the writing by just writing something else. Oh, the irony! The sweet, sweet irony!

I have no idea what I’ve come to you to talk about. I felt like I should write something. But probably because I have fuck all else to do and I need to keep my mind busy or else I will become insane. Properly insane. Like, eating dog-poop while screaming my own name. Dribbling and crying and screaming my own name and eating poop. Because this is how I live my life now. On the edge of sanity. Actually, dribbling and crying and screaming my own name and eating dog-poop is quite far over the edge if sanity. Have you ever seen any sane person doing all that? Have you ever seen anyone just do all those thing? I suppose it’s only really a monkey that would do that. But the monkey couldn’t scream it’s own name because monkeys can’t talk because monkeys are stupid.

Look at that guy! He’s properly forcing out a poop! I bet it’s big, too. And firm. Big, firm poops.

Well this blog hasn’t really been very long at all. Lucky I’m not getting paid to do this shit, eh?

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