Uncharacteristically jovial souls create delicious vibrations. The kind of stuff that can really send your accelerated mind on a tailspin. A purpose more intentional and rational than any trivial or circumstancial headwind. This is our frenetic and frantic attempt at proliferating our insidious mind’s vision. A rare blending of the inplausible and the seemingly divinely destined. This is our cry for arms. Never a farewell.
This is us trying to reignite the tumultuous love affair that we once had with the “bomb”. Look at us parading around like primitive lust driven animals, utterly consumed with the mundane and the trivial. Bored with the vulgar, married to the vain. Confoundedly compelled to vengefully pursue chaotic yet childishly inefficient methods of self-destruction.
Finishing this German beer, I will leave you dear faithful readers with a few words for inspiration. We have no choice but to unrepentantly embrace the unspeakable wealth that Plato’s myths of society have made possible. Let us wash our brains, souls, auras with chocolatey, crony capitalism and a second slice of sparkling Americana.
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