Infinite Loop
I haven't carried a blog for a long time. Since fucking 9th Ave.
It's a form of flashback and flashforward.
I never should have stopped the blog. Everything grows to a higher level of difficulty.
Everything should be done with precision. It's all becoming a matter of psyche exactness.
It's a night at Hart st (williamsburg) and I'm wondering how this shit is broadcasted.
And how incredibly large this show is. Who watches Skylar as he sleeps. And who knows Skylar shouldn't be sleeping.
Not that I have the ability to know this, just that it's obviously happening.
There's some form of sleep forcing in this show and I wonder what the fuck the holographic thing is. Strange items that hit me. They used to say hell on my rooftop in Manhattan.
I need to formulate my script for williamsburg quadrophenia.
It's so obvious that it's a show to the extent that people now immediately show me a cop newspaper article after I rant about I'd rather join the nypd if I couldn't create films, do anything to be apart of the axis of the world. I feel the city in my blood, in my fucking soul. The point is the implication that it's a T.V. show, and I really wonder how people can read my thoughts.
There's a fucking computer chip in my brain. I swear to God that's how this works.
That's so fucked up.
It's a form of flashback and flashforward.
I never should have stopped the blog. Everything grows to a higher level of difficulty.
Everything should be done with precision. It's all becoming a matter of psyche exactness.
It's a night at Hart st (williamsburg) and I'm wondering how this shit is broadcasted.
And how incredibly large this show is. Who watches Skylar as he sleeps. And who knows Skylar shouldn't be sleeping.
Not that I have the ability to know this, just that it's obviously happening.
There's some form of sleep forcing in this show and I wonder what the fuck the holographic thing is. Strange items that hit me. They used to say hell on my rooftop in Manhattan.
I need to formulate my script for williamsburg quadrophenia.
It's so obvious that it's a show to the extent that people now immediately show me a cop newspaper article after I rant about I'd rather join the nypd if I couldn't create films, do anything to be apart of the axis of the world. I feel the city in my blood, in my fucking soul. The point is the implication that it's a T.V. show, and I really wonder how people can read my thoughts.
There's a fucking computer chip in my brain. I swear to God that's how this works.
That's so fucked up.
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