secreto

My thoughts are all over the place, yet at the same time they are focused because I ate a peach. Yes, there I go again, professing the power of the peach. Hold on. My thoughts can't be both focused and unfocused simultaneous, right? That makes very little sense, yet at the same time it makes all the sense in the world. Kidding! But also not kidding.

Cults are appealing. Well, they are. They are appealing to me because they include strict routines and rituals, extreme devotion without that pesky "doubt" I've dealt with my entire life, and secrets. And who doesn't love secrets? I don't love secrets, actually. I will obviously keep your secrets, but I don't want to keep my own secrets. I want to lay it all out on the table, the operating table. Yes, I want to perform open heart surgery on my secrets. Scalpel, STAT! Spork, STAT! Salt and pepper, STAT! THESE SECRETS ARE DELICIOUS.

I am trying to write this as quickly as possible because if I don't write now I won't later and I want to post something and I also want to get outside soon because I have been trapped inside (by my own choosing) for hours and I have forgotten what the clouds look like and you know how much this bitch likes clouds. So, uh, I guess I'm just offering an explanation for the frantic feeling of this post. Just offering explanations, left and right. Just offering up my secrets to anyone who's willing to listen, left and right. Just forgetting which hand is left and which hand is right. Can't my hands be bipartisan for once?

For once I'd like to have a PB&J sandwich for dinner. This might very well happen tonight. I have my own secret reasons for wanting a PB&J. I will tell them if you ask nicely/in German using a cockney accent.

And there it is! The brick wall. I've crashed headfirst into the I can't-possibly-write-another-sentence wall. I am not complaining, though. It was good while it lasted. Was it good for you, too? No? I apologize, but I secretly don't care. I amuse myself quite frequently and maybe, just maybe, that's all that matters. That and peanut butter. And peaches. And clouds. Always, always clouds.