Life Lately (Mostly Avocados and Anxiety)

i don't wanna keep living in a world where we pretend the “Baskin Robbins” logo shouldn’t be a robin (the bird) “basking” in the sunlight. we simply have to be better as a species and make this happen. not for our sake—for posterity. would we really want aliens to visit us and NOT see that? that’s the real question.

a superhero whose only power is that he has a detachable penis. now that’s a story i can get behind. he uses his own dick as a whip, swinging it by the shaft while the hairy balls knock out his foes.

okayyyy, spencer. stfu.

lately i’ve been feeling like a silly goose. not always in the good way. i think it’s cuz i let judgment get to me. like if i’m singing in a grocery store (not too loudly, i’m not a psycho) and people look at me unfavorably, i give fucks. i literally hand them a fuck. they open the fuck-letter and it reads: “i’m sorry for being me. you are entitled to this letter as emotional compensation for making you feel uncomfortable while you looked for the perfect avocado (seriously the hardest part of any grocery store visit; avocado choosing is a faith-based exercise).” they tuck that fuck-letter into their pocket, and we part not as friends but as reconciled individuals. they don’t forgive me necessarily (although some absolutely do). but they DO feel acknowledged. and for that, we’re both grateful.

life is kind of overwhelming, huh. like too many choices at any given moment. i could read. i could write. i could get homework done. i could do laundry or cook or clean or take my dog to the dog park. okay maybe it’s not that overwhelming, because i just finished listing my tasks and it’s actually pretty manageable. ok let’s ignore this paragraph and move on.

i hope you’re doing okay if you’re reading this. i mean, i wouldn’t know. we all wear masks and pretend we’re doing great. and if you were doing badly, i doubt you’d reach out to me personally. and if you did, i probably wouldn’t know the perfect thing to say—but i’d definitely feel special you reached out. i’d be like, “oh, they felt comfortable enough to tell me their problem. that’s pretty neat.” so go ahead if that’s your vibe. also don’t if it’s not. at the end of the day it’s your life, ya know? and no one can take that from you. except with a gun or a knife or a heavy blunt object. and as your life flashes before your eyes (does that actually happen? and if so how did we find out, considering the person literally dies right after?), you can remember this paragraph.

the end.