As time passed early this morning, I found a spot in the tile that looked as a baby octopus. All bulbous head and very short tentacles*. Staring back at me from it's frozen marble space, 'HEY MAN, you're not even a real animal or fish or whatever, stop making me feel feelings for you!' I screamed at it. It's expression did not change, but it felt comfortless and less attached. Poor octopus, you never wanted this...
It was then that I saw the light and heard the alarm.
As I ran for the door to make it out on time, a flood of thoughts raced faster than my feet. Thoughts of being, thoughts of existing, thoughts of design - thoughts of purpose, man.
When the sun stung my eyes and the humid air hit my lungs, I realized what was most important...
that I need to stop drinking and passing out inside furniture stores.
* How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?
Ten tickles, of course
2 comments:
Lay off the acid
Hansel, haven't you been smoking payote for the last few days, and couldn't a little of this be in your mind?
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