fish eye

The best time to post. I can't say why, but many of you who follow me on a certain Twitter-ish website (aka TWITTER) know why. OH man. Seeing the world through the eye of a fish. It is what it is.

Do fish lay eggs? Yes, yes they do. Do we eat those eggs that they lay? Yes, yes we do. Why do we do such things? It's not like the fish eggs will fight off death and hand us immortality on a velvet pillow placed upon a golden plate placed upon THE golden plates. It's not like the eggs will do that. If the fish eggs did that, I would eat them often. But they don't. So there's no need to ingest and digest.

This is not a joke.

Let's stop eating each other. I mean, certain eating is okay (YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN), but the eating away at each other's hearts and souls and tissue and muscle is going too far. We should be taking care of one another, cradling each other in the crook of our arm instead of being the crook that steals hearts and holds them ransom.

Remember Mel Gibson in "Ransom"? GIVE ME BACK MY SON! Mel G. yelled with such fiery passion.

Fiery? Weird way to spell it, English Language. You are a bag full of shit, English Language! No, not really. Now I'm getting unnecessarily aggressive.

What was I going to write tonight? I wanted to write about how my heart broke a teeny tiny bit tonight while standing the sidewalk. Cracks in the sidewalk. Don't break your mother's back. Also, don't break your own back because that will lead to nothing but constant pain and something possibly really fucked up (aka PARALYSIS).

That's what I was going to write about, though. I miss him. But I also miss her. And him and her and me and me and me and her and her and them and us and all of us that were sitting together, singing without knowing that the future would never allow this to happen again.

So, yes, give me back my son/sun.