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And now I only jerk off on Thursdays. What the fuck. I'm pondering the levels of my psyche and damage that's been done throughout this show. I'm taking into consideration now creating this blog in terms of art of the general overall project in reflection to humanity instead of hiding what's happening. I'm taking into consideration what's happened over the period of time this projects happened. I'm thinking about it further like 2 years. I'm thinking back to series zero because I really miss being a person. Being a person was great, being a human, being a something, having a religion; the safety of my mind, the place inside myself and the safety of my room.
They get me to pause when this happens, they get to yell something and I pause, when the fuck did I start to reflect on this T.V. show in terms of responding to such popular catch phrases as "don't stall" and "please don't stall" amongst "bold move" and other popular items. When did I start to think of the show as a good thing?
Sure. But no. Not at all. It's a fucking ridiculous version of reality.
I had this revelation today listening to Phish in some sporadic Brooklyn park:
This show is so fucking on que. This is the most fucked up show I've ever heard. Something about Phish in a park and this moment that wakes me up, what the fuck sort of T.V. show have I been on. For thel ast two years I've been electricuted or something of the sorts, all I truly understand is two years ago James Highes created a vibrational machine or something that fucked with my sleep patterns. Who the fuck knows if his name is really James Hughes. For the last year I've had the most awful voice forced into my head overly obsessed with parents and on an ex girlfriend I clearly never liked. Now I'm in East Williamsburg which is really Bushwick and I feel like I just woke up of sorts and I'm like, WTF kind of T.V. show am I on?
And it's really obvious that I'm on a show that I'm being fucked with. When did I decide to stop defending myself? When did I allow this show to happen? Why would I ever decide that my fate is in anothers hands? No. Fuck that shit.
When they did I start to react to "get another goal"
Are you watching this shit on T.V.? Do you see what's happening? Do you see what's happened inside the realm of Hart St.
Do you ever wonder what's being placed into my psyche. No. Because you're actually watching it happen in live time, you're actually seeing it happen.
It's become more important to me to continue to blog and just leave a status of my progress within this show than to do the small tasks of pretending I'm not in a T.V. show. It's so obvious, I should have taken it into consideration the first day when I thought it was H.B.O.
Atleast if I took the girl home and fucked her who was rambling about a tugboat I would have had a season of sex.
And changed the progression of the show forever.
Then, who knows if I'd become Jesus Christ Art Star? Maybe the show would involve sanity and the layers of progression and thought patterns inside sexuality.
What am I doing inside this show? I want the Truman Burbank door out of the show.
Fuck being told by anyone that I'm going to feel differently in anyway.
There's also an entry I'll add next on what an honor it is as my beginning as a New Yorker, my early years, my flash forward when I get the keys to my club to have all of this documented.
Even when it hurts like all fuck, because frequently, it fucking hurts in a physical and psychic form. Seriously.
Like, people are walking directly up to me now and pressing these fucking dog whistle fucked up machines that they've been playing all along.
Just like even @ East River Bar people would still have to contribute to the plotline. Mention ages.
But these are my people. I can't segregate exactly person to person or blame anyone for being apart of the show.
Or I've given my art school friends diplomatic immunity, way too much. And at times it's cost me sanity.
Fuck, that guy literally just walked up to me and fired off a laser.
I think this was a good thing. I think the attribution of my art school friends diplomatic immunity is a testament to my belief in them.
I've absolutely suffered more for this choice than anything in this show. I've lost realms my sanity, I've let myself look like an ass, I've shit upon myself openly.
They're hitting me with fucking flashes of lights as this goes on.
Still, I reach out to my S.V.A. people trying to latch back onto humanity.
<3
Skylar
They get me to pause when this happens, they get to yell something and I pause, when the fuck did I start to reflect on this T.V. show in terms of responding to such popular catch phrases as "don't stall" and "please don't stall" amongst "bold move" and other popular items. When did I start to think of the show as a good thing?
Sure. But no. Not at all. It's a fucking ridiculous version of reality.
I had this revelation today listening to Phish in some sporadic Brooklyn park:
This show is so fucking on que. This is the most fucked up show I've ever heard. Something about Phish in a park and this moment that wakes me up, what the fuck sort of T.V. show have I been on. For thel ast two years I've been electricuted or something of the sorts, all I truly understand is two years ago James Highes created a vibrational machine or something that fucked with my sleep patterns. Who the fuck knows if his name is really James Hughes. For the last year I've had the most awful voice forced into my head overly obsessed with parents and on an ex girlfriend I clearly never liked. Now I'm in East Williamsburg which is really Bushwick and I feel like I just woke up of sorts and I'm like, WTF kind of T.V. show am I on?
And it's really obvious that I'm on a show that I'm being fucked with. When did I decide to stop defending myself? When did I allow this show to happen? Why would I ever decide that my fate is in anothers hands? No. Fuck that shit.
When they did I start to react to "get another goal"
Are you watching this shit on T.V.? Do you see what's happening? Do you see what's happened inside the realm of Hart St.
Do you ever wonder what's being placed into my psyche. No. Because you're actually watching it happen in live time, you're actually seeing it happen.
It's become more important to me to continue to blog and just leave a status of my progress within this show than to do the small tasks of pretending I'm not in a T.V. show. It's so obvious, I should have taken it into consideration the first day when I thought it was H.B.O.
Atleast if I took the girl home and fucked her who was rambling about a tugboat I would have had a season of sex.
And changed the progression of the show forever.
Then, who knows if I'd become Jesus Christ Art Star? Maybe the show would involve sanity and the layers of progression and thought patterns inside sexuality.
What am I doing inside this show? I want the Truman Burbank door out of the show.
Fuck being told by anyone that I'm going to feel differently in anyway.
There's also an entry I'll add next on what an honor it is as my beginning as a New Yorker, my early years, my flash forward when I get the keys to my club to have all of this documented.
Even when it hurts like all fuck, because frequently, it fucking hurts in a physical and psychic form. Seriously.
Like, people are walking directly up to me now and pressing these fucking dog whistle fucked up machines that they've been playing all along.
Just like even @ East River Bar people would still have to contribute to the plotline. Mention ages.
But these are my people. I can't segregate exactly person to person or blame anyone for being apart of the show.
Or I've given my art school friends diplomatic immunity, way too much. And at times it's cost me sanity.
Fuck, that guy literally just walked up to me and fired off a laser.
I think this was a good thing. I think the attribution of my art school friends diplomatic immunity is a testament to my belief in them.
I've absolutely suffered more for this choice than anything in this show. I've lost realms my sanity, I've let myself look like an ass, I've shit upon myself openly.
They're hitting me with fucking flashes of lights as this goes on.
Still, I reach out to my S.V.A. people trying to latch back onto humanity.
<3
Skylar
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