A Mantra For Clowns in 2014: The Year That Was

Why is it that people insist on a love for being told the truth when in reality they’d be far happier having a minage a trois with their ego and the lies?

There’s nothing more depressing then crying when the sun’s out. Bracing the walls with turn-ups and unexpected events I suspend my disbelief in those lost moments I found so fleetingly in your presence. You have the auroa of a devil but play like an angel. With the bass line banging I turn the dial to 11. Then the lights get shot out under gun fire, slugs on the ground, and a bullet proof monk in the anti-chamber for the surmen.

Think of it more as a dial rather than a pendulum  that you can adjust, however slightly. Rather than waiting for the ineveitable swing.

• Every 20 minutes laugh. It doesn’t matter if there’s anything funny to laugh at. If there isn’t? Laugh at the fact that you’re laughing every 20 minutes .
  A Mantra For Clowns….

Smile when you’re sad. 
Smile when you’re happy. 
Smile when you’re indifferent. 
Just fucking smile, alright?!

So if you smile when you’re unhappy and this makes you happy – Through DNA and bio-chemical reactions
Are you lying to yourself daily? And failing to deal with the issues? Or are you controlling your responses to things in and out of your control?
* And then, does it really matter if you’re lying to yourself, the important thing is that you’re lying to those around you. So everyone can feel relaxed that there’s nothing on your mind. 

On the entrance to my anus I have what’s either

A.      A pile the size of Mount Olympus

B.       A flea bite (still the size of Mt Olympus) thanks to the utterly horrible state of our apartment which has now afflicted by darling Queso.***

C.       Or C, an unusually oily rectum resulting in the most gawd awful spot I’ve ever encountered!

·         I love Aseop rock, lyrical gymnastics vaulted over insane imagery 
I can’t get enough of the violin at the start of Big Bang.

Hunter S Thompson: Hells Angels – A Gonzo journey on two-wheels through the tail-end of 60s America  as the last  of the free spirits are caged.
A two-wheeled journey through the tail-end of 60s America

…oh wait, it’s been 20 minutes.
Smile
And again….SMILE
And again….SMILE

‘I’m an English male, tea comes in two flavours, hot, and cold!’

What’s the point of crying when the only time the tears can dry is when it rains?
What’s the point of crying when the rain never stops?

I’ m everything you hate but it’s impossible to worry when haunting strings tie my demons up in 4 beats to the bar. Cue the head-rush with the blindness and be sure you mix in a few decibels more, 5 am sunrises, and pains in the Gulliver more horrific than anything in Clockwork Orange.

Oh, oh, and wait, and again….SMILE

***I feel completely horrible about this – We’re going to try and fix the flat this weekend coming. He’s been scratching so much and it’s not his fault the flat’s a shit-hole. He caught a mouse the other day. The mouse wasn’t white and pink like his toy. I’m also quite insistent that people realise it’s the flat’s fault for being so manky, not Queso’s.

Last updated September 24, 2014