ever have a really gruelling shit?
no. not that.
i mean: one of those “oooh, DAYumn… lawd, be with me” kinds.
that’s what i’m talking about.
where it’s not so much a life/death thing as it is a death/rebirth ritual, Skull-and-Crossbones be damned… where you don’t even have to read Kant or Sartre to walk (no, make that limp) away with a whole new profoundly metaphysical understanding of the universe. although, had you brought along some titanic tome like Joyce’s Ulysses, a timehole would have been created by the sudden spatial dilation of your bunghole, compressing all of history into a fucking little speck, during the course of which you could have absorbed the whole entire thing in the 25 minutes or so (“real” time – ha!) it took you to delete all your junk files, as it were… not by reading, but by knowing, my friend.
can i get a hallelujah?
