Just Type Something

Every once in a while I'll be in the mood to write something but I have no idea what to write about. Recently I decided that the best way to deal with this was to just open a blank text file and write whatever came into my mind. The results make me think that I could make a living as an inspirational speaker. I mean, these are some pretty deep, philosophical quandaries, wouldn't you agree?

From Monday, December 2nd, 2013

The finding of the things was incredible indeed. They seemed to be tribbles but yet they were not. Redundancy is repetitive and overrated. Yellow Texas mascots are endearing and troublesome. Whitewashed cacti in beds of snowflakes take leaves of brown and transform them into jewels of sunshine.

To go is to leave and to be headed somewhere but to stay is to eat pizza and find your inner Jew and make it do a funny dance.

Justin Timberlake eats boy bands for breakfast and murders evildoers in the dark of night under the guise of a giant French chicken named Max.

Yellow purgatories are the high castles of maharajas of time and space imported from west Eritrea.

Your inner Jew must eat a sandwich every five minutes or face the perils of witchcraft on a mountaintop with yellow roses of Texas and trashy green picnic baskets.

To gain a friendship from the netherworlds of yesteryear is similar to the face of destruction by which all men must eat grass on a Tuesday morning.

Grass is the substance which reads a comic and tells itself that the majority of philosophical opinions are complete and utter bullshit.

Comics are books in third form of image and parallel washout of grassroots nations.

Trying too hard to be difficult in a man's world by the fireside is the bane of all existence of grass in all its forms.

Grass is what cows eat.

Grass is what cows eat when the soul of the fire inside the great oven of life shudders at the thunderstorm by the prairie.

The elevators of the Doom Tower are speedy but easy to fill.

I don't know what I'm doing with my life.