Everything is here. I wont read it but I will let you as long as you leave me be. This is psycho-babble: The chronicles of my early days in alaska to when I said fuck everything and fuck fuck fuck god damn and stopped writing. I get crazier as I go.

I know there are some good things that I wrote but I also know that a lot of it is shit. The kind that gets stuck in your shoes and wont come off even if you rub it on grass and pavement.

Sometimes I might write things here but dont pay attention.

Maybe you are bored and you should take a walk. Or better yet, Bike. I love my bike.

You should love your bike. It is a puppy. It is a kitten with small ears and large eyes. It is the dog with it's leg broken off that you find on the road that no one would help because maybe they didn't want the constant stream of murder red blood coming from the dog to cover the beige plush leather interior. And so you helped the dog but it died in your arms on the way the to hospital. Blood. It's eyes were talking to you. The dog told you to ride your bike you fatass.

fyi ps. you didn't mind picking up the dog because your car was covered in blood already.

Look mom a circus.