Stretch this out. Shake the dearth of creativity from your, your what, boots, brow, bones. Or, stop writing, stop holding a guitar in your hands. Start wearing more ties, getting more shoeshines, and watching the news. Sleep when you are awake and do everything to ensure that the death of your fathers is your death, your life. Keep up the good work, jackass. Sit still for five minutes.
In lighter news, it has occurred to me that I have no idea what squirrel poop looks like. I can spot rabbit feces from fifty feet away, but I couldn't identify squirrel scat if it was performing on stage with the Rolling Stones.
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1 comment:
why do i have the sneaking suspicion "poop" will be an often used label?
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