Pigs In Space

Never mind the cigars, I'm fucking back.
I know, i realize i'm completely inconsistent, noncommittal, and unwilling to be disciplined.

I know all this.
But times are changing.

Sure, you've heard this before.
And sure, i could falter again.

But i'm sick of fucking faltering.
I'm fucking sick of being a slacker.
I'm fucking sick of being fucking nondependable.

so yeah, there's my thing.

they said 'it's over fer tibet. don't waste yer time.'
tibet is still here.
and i am tibet.
just like it, really.

people often think i'm from tibet.
and i like to say the word diaspora.
even though i have trouble saying it.

actually, recently, while traveling in Greece (i went to Greece, fuckers), many people thought i was german.
little kids at the acropolis said 'hello' in english to tina b, but to me they said whatever the fuck the germans say to one another when greeting.

and that's profound proof.

but anyway, there's time for all this breakdown later, just like there's time enough for counting, when the day is done.

i celebrate my oeuvre.
and i'm ready to expand into larger quarters.

and fatten my motherfucking oeuvre.

that's what i'm talking about.

which...makes a lot of sense, right?

i thought you wouldn't agree.

kill whitey