Fuck you funny man.

[Gobbo]

It wasn’t even supposed to be a joke – I know it. He just started talking. The thought process of this man lay naked, shivering in the desolate wasteland in between human interaction and human understanding. Staggering blindly in the dark, his continuing accumulation of momentum somehow began to bring a smile to my face, for he was behind it pulling the strings.

How was it this homeless man could conquer me so easily? And what’s worse, how is it that he doesn’t even seem to realize it? How can one fight a battle if they do not know they are in it?

Was his life itself some inexhaustible cosmic joke for all to enjoy? Am I fated to suffer a fate bound to this introspective mime? This manifested laugh-track caught on repeat? Could he even see me standing here? Did he even care?

These thoughts pulled at mental coat legs, begging me to stay and ponder the mystery of the homeless man. The same man I would visit next week, and likely the one after.

[Dan1 (Dan~)]

That’s right, emotions taste freedom. It’s madness. It’s unique. It’s imperfect, and then it becomes variety.

[Rewucki]

He’s in the between. Or. More.

[Rewucki]

@Old_Gobbo

A whitty saying proves nothing – Voltaire

And nothing proves a witty saying. Except that we don’t really know why it makes us sparkle.

ALANIS MORISSETTE LYRICS

“Hands Clean”

If it weren’t for your maturity none of this would have happened
If you weren’t so wise beyond your years I would’ve been able to control myself
If it weren’t for my attention you wouldn’t have been successful and
If it weren’t for me you would never have amounted to very much

Ooh this could be messy
But you don’t seem to mind
Ooh don’t go telling everybody
And overlook this supposed crime

We’ll fast forward to a few years later
And no one knows except the both of us
And I have honored your request for silence
And you’ve washed your hands clean of this

You’re essentially an employee and I like you having to depend on me
You’re kind of my protege and one day you’ll say you learned all you know from me
I know you depend on me like a young thing would to a guardian
I know you sexualize me like a young thing would and I think I like it

Ooh this could get messy
But you don’t seem to mind
Ooh don’t go telling everybody
And overlook this supposed crime

We’ll fast forward to a few years later
And no one knows except the both of us
I’ve more than honored your request for silence
And you’ve washed your hands clean of this

What part of our history’s reinvented and under rug swept?
What part of your memory is selective and tends to forget?
What with this distance it seems so obvious?

Just make sure you don’t tell on me especially to members of your family
We best keep this to ourselves and not tell any members of our inner posse
I wish I could tell the world cuz you’re such a pretty thing when you’re done up properly
I might want to marry you one day if you watch that weight and keep your firm body

Ooh this could be messy and
Ooh I don’t seem to mind
Ooh don’t go telling everybody
And overlook this supposed crime

They say Voltaire shitted while dying. The last thing he gave to the world other than himself.