so you know, when you’re driving along & doing … i dunno, something, *not* picking your nose, but something involving some vigorous hand-related activity in the vicinity your face, something like maybe rubbing your itchy nose (externally) & you accidentally jam a finger right up your nose & it happens to be one of the ones with the actual fingernails & it hurts like a mofo & so then you’re driving along sniffling with your eyes watering like mad hoping your nose is just running & not actually bleeding, thinking damn why is everything a metaphor for my life?
yeah.
Just which finger are we talking about?
does it matter? it was a nice big sharp finger, that’s for sure.
And you’re only kinda’ sure that’s not your brain leaking out…
omg. i hadn’t thought of that.
well, that would explain quite a lot.
back when I smoked, I hated when the tip of the cigarette dropped off between my thighs, you know, on the highway at seventy-five miles-an-hour, and you try to lunge your hips up but you have your seatbelt on and then you feel that sizzle – - yeah
yeah
yeah
“damn why is everything a metaphor for my life?”
because everything *is* a metaphor for your life. that’s why you’re a natural-born poet. but also, you’ve so ‘got it’ that you are living in the zen zone all the time. pisses me off.