Depriving self of sleep is unfair but depriving self from sleep till you drop down unconscious or till you are forced into sedation for the sake of giving into the true defeat sleep is a beautiful effort. It isn't the game plan but at the lack of self-propelling brilliance I may resort to it.

Sometimes I just so honestly wish I wouldn't have to fall for people, so honestly that lack of a proper metaphor makes the wish fairy spur toward me to make me wish I was a fucking rock. but ofcourse i can stop doing that. I'm an artist. I can be the sheath of glistening pyre and a dance of roaring waters. I dislike honesty. It deludes one into believing that such a stable entity exists, to start with, and slaughter me, prefers to stay with them. Honesty is dropping your underwear in front of idk, your mom. When you are 21. Unnecessary and embarrassingly protruding entirely. Honesty is malfunction of brain. Honesty is the fume that ensues after you blindly pour concentrated acid on your imagination. But that is just me. If I ask you out for the sake of it, will you go out with me for the heck of it? like high school minus naive, vulnerable nudity of self. the other self. Nudity is welcomed. I love nude. Not your fat aunt's nude.

Hi five to everyone who is ending the year single. IF you don't decide to go out with me. We'll rest the case here.

How old are we in heaven?
twenty?
twenty-five?

Twenty-three.
Twenty-five is too old.

-Touching Home

May your oblong smile slit your own face as half of it drops backward in a deserved defeat. May your sleepless nights be the trenches you are sliced in. Slow and easy. May you always rot and never die. May you remain the lust of a dead body and crawl of a mindless worm. May your words strangle you inside your throat and your sighs knock you breathless. May your eyeballs drop before your careless step and may your filthy crooked fingers reach out only to masturbate your demons.

Suddenly self-loathing.

Fuck your title

You're all so cruel. drudging under your sense of the "right" thing inflicting numerous slits on the most innocent and pure thing inside you, your desires and dreams, setting them aside like they were just crowding phantoms, paranoid that they'll get you. Fuck your sense of righteousness. fuck your paranoia. fuck night time. serrying around the copse of your mind are your abandoned children, sirs. plugging your ears shut with your fingers wouldn't reverse shit. They're gonna be crying all the time, receding to silent sobs but they get stimulated, they always do. You're never going to have a clear conscience. A bad mix of culture and individuality is your constitution, the personal one. normal relationships are for the television shows, you will never have a normal relationship. You're not capable of one, there I broke your bubble. Next year will take you places you always dreamt of and to beds you never imagined yourself in. river beds. Woman's bed. Peter's bed. I don't have a plan. I never did. herpie I will have to go for fucks sake. Because I belong to my dog to my fishes and soil and food and reptiles and share a place in the bubble nests of foozle and zepplin and I don't need much. Give me a little sex once in a while if you can and I can unload physical reverberations that buzz between my legs. Please always welcome me to your bed and I shall quietly leave the next morning to come back next leap year. But don't chain me in your dreams of the future I'm not capable of. Your ivy dreams and fat lips push be down to the ground I don't belong to. I don't belong to you. but you will always skim out the best of me.

I have a list of things I need and I'm positive not one person gives a fuck. I'll cuss the world for everything it isn't and take my wishlist to my grave, checked on every point.

I'm thinking second tattoo, leather thongs, The Sense of an Ending, Heavier Than Heaven, Amphigory, dolls of Harper Lee and Issac Asimov 20 more books on my other list, oh fuck your lists.
Fuck you

The news

I ate worms for dinner tonight. Well not as much as ate them as accidentally ingested them. About 50 or so boiled to death little bastards, chewed and swallowed. Does that make me paranoid? No. but I am pretty sure I am going to be dreaming my favourite kind of mental rapture. Everything falls in place now. I had always wanted to eat the craziest stuff out there. I haven't achieved much in my grand list of incredible things I've eaten but a frog and now inedible worms have given me the kick. If my heart doesn't fail in my sleep tonight because of whatever deadly shit I have inside me now( yes I did not make myself throw up) I will achieve milestones man. I'm just crazy that way. And other unnecessary ways too. Haaaaaah!

If I live, I'll eat more crazy things, things alive, things dead, things like soap. If I foam to death by this night, I want to say, I never liked you, you and you. I absolutely loved you even when you were such a cold bitch to me, I've eaten my dogs food. fish food also, although I don't remember why I did that. I am your bitch and you can piss in my dead ear all you want now.

So much for a goodbye note.
Fuck.

I'll grind your briny ass

It is only a matter of time before everything you've put your heart into will get fucked up and every little instance of beneficial evolution you started will not only halt, because that way you're being blessed with the ability to fist it at a much better state from the nascent, it is going to degrade which I quite breathingly like to say "fuck up".  To get down to a couple of things, I'm supposed to write down my break downs out here like literally. Don't ask me why our how could that be comforting for a dedicated misanthrope I just feel lighter contributing the world wide web my ounce of shit. I like to talk to my brain-designed listener in maximum loopy statements of my heart's herbal purity and magically (oooh) it helps. I don't live in a colony if many people and those around me are amazingly invisible to me and godblessedly vice versa. It is only appropriate it stays that way for the whole fairness of things. when there are interactions, they are either extremely extremely mundane like drop-a-fucking-rock-on-me mundane, or stroke-causing vain or cold or directionless negotiations which is very disheartening in terms of an eerie sense of human predicament that hits my imaginary nuts. strawberry creamed wafers came to my rescue tonight with the homicide of winter night silence through the musical crunch. I couldn't cook anything because I don't live in my own apartment yet. Yes I'm going to be 21 in less than a month and I live with my parents. Suck my ball so what?! I'm completely digressing from my tooshi here. I'm changing my url right way for some personal reasons. If you are able to see this then there is a possibility of large part that you happened to tumble down here and we will keep it that way. Who am I kidding, the beauty of this place is that you are not fucking reading it. Pahaha!

I promise you I'll throw up on you every night. Writing will keep me sane. Remember fellas, you heard it first from CHARLIE!

That time when...

The other day I happened to catch a little bird. For all the animal loving brothers out there, there is absolutely no need to get naked and cage yourself over it. It was like a sweet accident. It was one if the ten best serendipitous things that are granted to happen in anyones life at moments of sane observation, which btw is rare in our species. We can never be as stupid yet adorable as animals after the first few years of our lives, nor could we be altruistic without some unidentified leprechaun of an agenda like them. That is a different issue. currently I shall panegyrize about this sweet prime-senses-rearranging incident that happening one morning when I saw this little bird on the wrong side of the window pane struggling to escape. Now when I first saw the tiny little guy, it blew my mind away because not only was it not a crow, it was a tiny little humming bird. I mean how often can you feel it strongly in you that out of nowhere, you could lay your filthy hands on a creature that delicate? After it occurred to me that I could perhaps have the privilege of touching the bird or be a lucky motherfucker enough to hold it, I took a good moment to breathe. I don't know about the bird catchers out there but delicate things have a way of controlling my respiration. Which might sound terribly stupid. Anyway, so I finally know for sure that while this little guy is stifling with the glass, super scared and trying every bit it had learned to survive, I could gently hold it in My hand. which I did. Duuuuude. there was never a suitable word/poetry for such feelings that is why you can never really talk shit about the best things in life. All that you CAN write about is mundane. so I am holding this bird in my fist and I feel heartbeat. and all of a beautiful sudden I feel, elated. lifted, even. I'm motherfucking levitating. everything in my life that has ever affected me has come down concentrated in a heartbeat inside my fist. It is crazy how a little humming bird can make your head spin, call me crazy motherfuckers but it was awesome. Hah, the one word, eh? I am holding this bird close to me and i feel the trilling heartbeat and I feel like a giant. I'm the brute who loved the delicate things and was subsumed by them but was cursed enough to hurt them by his mere touch. Yes, that is how I felt. Forget what I said about not being able to write shit. I was the friendly giant holding a tiny bird in my fist and I belonged to it. I wanted to be its friend, I wanted to slave for it. The bird was like some magic that will always run away and come back. It never stays and I was the giant brute with unfriendly hands. Man that moment was so thrilling it could have killed me.For minutes after that I kept still, patting and caressing the bird's tiny, soft head. I didn't talk to it, I didn't kiss it. But just looking at it made the dusting romance inside my head come to life and dance out of me.

I belonged to that bird and insert more philosophical redundance.

:)
  It is 2 in the morning and I am still overwhelmed by something that happened two days back. Way to go tough guy. You're a retard motherfucker.

let us try to be normal again

starting with a heavily loaded spank of unrelated words on all the world's cherry bum. because that's the way we rock and that is how we roll, munna. interestingly, when you can reach a moment of clarity in your head and that perennial urge to lift the lids of your mind's eye and insert and fucking broomstick and wiggle it around till your own blood washes and suspends all the doubts and insecurities relaxes for a small blessed while, and when you are able to communicate about it, rest of the world accumulates earwax in the path to the understanding department of the brain. i found myself hitting the bottom last night and right now i am living in a moment of clarity. when i  came out of the shower with my hair still all dry i knew i had to buy a new pair of jeans and a notebook and fucking write a varied tasteful book where sentences rolled on the pages like wild uncontrollable disjointed giant wheels with people still strapped on to it, squishing under all that metal and the weight of the rest of the alive and dead people you know because this is emotion pouring in, see? so that is what i am going to be doing and when i'm done with it i will be pregnant with sapid business ideas and start a bookary revolution and sell copies, make profit, cheat people and make more profit and be fucking badass. now imagine all this like a perfectly cinematographic sequence in front of my eyes right when i stepped out of shower when in this weather you can do without showering for 3 days at least, hair still dry..also, i am quitting my job after diwali. i'd quit today, right now, pack my stuff spit and wave my middle finger at everybody and leave but i figured, well lets leave after the diwali bonus *smartass grin*.
hi everybody who ever missed me.

Sweet cake savior of life

I'll tell you what is worth betting your sorry ass on surviving the most awkward party ever of a one year old-

It's cake, baby.


Free.
Unlimited.
Cake.

Ugly Wretch, I am.

I've always waited and watched. I've always been waiting, and never stopped short of helping when it was needed. I did everything I could do to be a good person. Because that was what was important to me in the first place.

But all of you - you give me nothing but crap all the time. I feel used, abused and disgusted with myself. I look in the mirror and face failure day in and day out - and all of that has always been my fault. And I wouldn't dare blame anyone else for it either. But the difference lies in the fact that there isn't much that you all do to make my failures any easier for me - you make it harder, being what you are. You make it so much harder for me, by making sure that you add salt to all my wounds. It burns. It burns inside and out.

I'm not that preferred anyway, right? I can be replaced very easily, can't I? Because everything I did doesn't count - they could be done by anybody. Well, I guess then I'll stop trying to stay safe. I'd rather put my life on the line for something that I love doing rather than stay careful enough not to lose it so I can be there for you two-faced slime balls.

Pleasure's mine.

So, I never did get to know you, but I wish I did. It's because you seem such an interesting person, and it seems such a shame that I don't know you all that well. Ok, don't take any of that in the right sense - it's got oodles of negativity in it.

I just wish I had known you better to be able to convince you to let me dissect your brain and see what kind of shit you've got holed up in there. I don't even know you, but from what I've heard about you, regardless of how one-sided it might seem, I think I know enough to be able to conclude and convince the board at human rights to let me torture you to death and then pluck your brain out.

Seriously. I've heard how puny you are, and, I'm not all that little. And I don't go around bullying people all the time, but you wouldn't want to know the kind of pain I'd try to instill in you if I ever got my hands on you. Boy, for what you did to my best friend, you'd be in quite a bad state right now. I swear to god. Trust me - I have a friend who cries her eyes out for the smallest things, and I know for sure now that she'd be able to handle a break-up better than you. You pathetic little girl... er... boy.

Oh, and send me your address. I found a host of pretty things for you to wear while you whine and moan like my neighbour's pregnant bitch.

it is because of people like you

that I know what rage is.

and now
I
will
make rage comics.

You are a stupid little fucker

SAPM is not all that awesome. I hate you for saying those hurtful words to me I hate myself for saying hurtful words to you in an attempt to be badass and unnerved. I hate myself for never really understanding you and like a retard agreeing to delve into the fake intense facade you carried with you. I went fucking gaga. I don’t have any more words for you bitch. You say things to me that you should be ashamed of talking about. Bloody pre-mature ejaculating monkey, even a person as understanding as me wouldn’t want to understand you because you are a freaking mental person. You are mental you sick fuck you are mental to your thorny pubes. You used to make me so happy. I wanna set myself ablaze for ever  thinking that we’d make it. You started making me sad about how much I hurt you. But you fucking dense bitch you can never get over anything until you with your highly delusional mind blame me for everything. Bitch, you can never keep anyone happy. You will never survive with your dense rotten brains that has ideologies of its own and your self-superior ass you sick dog. Eat my shit and open your mouth masterbating as I fucking piss inside your mouth, bloody filth! No wait, let me just kill myself a little for ever getting involved with you. And who’re you calling a dumb clown you highschool weiner, you fucking plotter, cry baby shitbag! People like your should forbid speaking of anything but the tiny little nonperforming cock of yourself. I wish I could kill you when you said that. I’d fucking ha ha over your splattered brains and jump on your little monkey-cock till all your self-righteous adamant crap came bleeding out and when I get arrested for killing you, my little world will honor me with your deep fried head for saving the world from a bitch like you.

And please please suck my balls?

Awesome people are ready to lend!

Cyberspace is full people who like to talk about their life. It is like therapy for some and  therapy gone wrong for some. None of this is my fucking business. Cyberspace is full of people who like to talk about their life, SAPM is one of them.

The next big thing[read:challenge] in the office is the stupid surprise party they’re organizing for the CEO. Now, now, everyone loves parties which include cakes. I mean everybody loves cakes, right? So there was a pint of half hearted orgasm when the group sat down deciding the flavor of the cake.

“Black Forest!!! Mmm I lou black forest!”

“Everyone loves black forest, but it is everywhere now.”

“Pineapple?”

“enh..”

“Let us settle for black forest. It’s safe.”

“Or blue berry?”

“Ew, it has all that jelly stuff. I hate how jelly tastes. I mean who likes jelly anyway?”

SAPM looks up from the hardwork of pretending to work, glittery big eyes trying to bifurcate the unanimous rapid nod.

“But I love jelly.”

“Black forest it is.”

“enh..”

Would you just believe that, jelly lovers? *insert oratorical disbelief inducing some kind of revolution amongst jelly lovers*

Anyway.

Herpie asked me a very serious question last night,

“You know what I am scared of the most?”

At this point, SAPM adjusts to the sentimentally empowering figure in Herpie’s life.

“Tell me.”*affirmative*

“Farting in your presence.”*sad face*

“That scares me too” *worried, contemplative face*

Sigh.

That is my love for you, Herpie. No I can’t read your poker face.

SAPM obviously hates meeting family relatives. This is probably the case with every person I know. The extra butter smeared over the tongue heaving on the weight of the tone that recuperates its audacity inside one’s mind mocking like a silly girl, mocking at you and the sudden change of the way you talk is ugly.

So encountering a family relative I don’t really know the second name of, I made a brave face and made a small talk. A tiny little small talk. This person slurs the usual comment I get from every fucking individual I meet,” OMG you’re vanishing! Put on some weight! Put on some bloody weight!”

*SAPM facepalms*

Thusly, I proceed to the bathroom from the unkind, judgmental world and its stinging words, to the fruit smelling soap for respite. It gives me happiness. At some zen moment under the shower, SAPM also believes that it only wants a fruity soap to live through the life. And awesome food. And awesome sex and cigarettes[children, you didn’t see that]. And a bloody sexy bike. Yeah that’s about it.

So, I’m going to maybe, probably definitely get the camera. Awesome people are ready to lend.

AWESOME PEOPLE ARE READY TO LLLEEENNNDD!

XD

To - fuck, I'm not even going to use your name.

You love it, don't you? You slimy son-of-a-bitch. If you were anywhere near me, alone, I swear I'd try to rip apart your limbs, and make it as slow as possible. You're a downright pretentious and filthy excuse for a human being who doesn't have half the guts he portrays he does.

Your pathetic, sob stories to woo people in to the "oh-so-tragic" life of yours! Oh my god! You had me fall for that once upon a time, and it makes me sick to my toes to think that I ever did believe that load of crap that you sold people! It makes me want to kill myself to think that I was ever friends with someone like you, to think that I actually turned to you for advice!

Oh, you shameless bastard. You have someone I hold so dear hypnotized so well, that she would actually defend you! She would actually vouch for your goodness! If she could open her eyes and see the rot that you are, she'd be just as disgusted as me. You think you could put in an offer for my cam, after all your succeeded attempts to insult me time and time again? You think I would throw you half a rotten bone even if you offered me the world for it?!? I'd give it away for free if I had to, to someone I know who'd appreciate the beauty in it. Not some traitorous piece of shit like you.

I hope that hell hurts as much as being insulted hurt me. I hope that someday, you'll stand there with no one around you, realizing that people finally know what a fart you are, and then read this, and decide to go kill your life.

I'm er... Here.

So, this is me. And this is my nasty side. It's for all you motherfuckers whom I need to be smiling at all the time when all I really want to do is to pick up a torque wrench and plunge it into your eyes. I hope you stumble by some day and read this word for word, without the slightest clue that it could be you. No wait,I hope you kill yourself in the confusion of whether I'm talking about you, or about someone else.

You do know now, that you're bleeding on a hot crucifix somewhere in my mind, don't you?

Ha.

You!

I don't understand this creepily subjective and highly vulnerable human characteristic of wading in the slimy areas of their past. Meeting with an object that could logically trip you over and kind of fuck you up, human beings get mentally challenged and proceed running their regretful fingers on the walls painted with their past. knowing that you could still secure your calm by choosing to not go deep into it, fail as we are, we complain of being drawn to it.

I cannot believe, looking back now, that I was so incredibly charmed by you. I cannot believe that I adored you so much, I was fucking smitten by you. I am equally surprised that now I find those emotions alien to me. I wont sit and calculate in large debatable amounts as to whose fault it was. You keep asking what went wrong, what changed and i find myself furiously looking for something of an answer to throw at you so hard that you die, you fucking DIE at the hit. I don't know what went wrong. I don't want to sort things out. I have stopped feeling that way and I want to fucking erase you off my memory. I hate you for a lot of things and there's no point counting things I loved you for.  Because even as I remember them, I've failed to find them in you at all now. I wish you'd just keep away or I'll fucking have to kill you woman.

You! There have been times when I was with you and the elaborate discussions over how badly everyone was going to miss everyone would commence, I would just roll my eyes and talk about how the Principal should be murdered. I saw your picture with me and that beach dog and I cannot deny that I felt how it probably feels on missing someone. I miss spitting water from your balcony which was never like Titanic[as it may seem], I miss secretly gulping in shots of vodka and that lonesome Valentine party. I miss wearing your clothes, eating your mom's food, stealing your neon-coloured pens, giving my plates to you to wash, shoving you forward when there was danger..and your scent. That really nice way you smelt, girl. I might have kissed you that day you were lying beside me. I just don't know why it didn't happen. 

You! I miss being third-class with you.

You! I miss our 1 am smokes and walks across that bridge with you. I miss walking in my boxers  to the road to buy the smokes and those weird tap-dance moves I did to keep the 'skeetoes away.

and I miss you too.

Sosialli aakbhard pent maanstr

got seriously bored of ranting and posting awesome posts about how some things suck.

I need need need need THAT CAMERA, FELLAS. I SUDDENLY REALIZE THAT I ACCIDENTALLY HIT THE CAPS LOCK BUTTON.

Anyway. The beauty costs around 14 grands. I've slept, walked, motherfucking LIVED with it in the past. It wasn't mine then. It can be now. The amount I earn is not enough to smilingly fling bills at my friend's face and snatch it. I might have to wait. I will have to wait. But I am going to get it. I wish I could paint or something, I'd sell them or paint shirts or something and earn or something. Life, presenting itself as  such a visage seems horribly unfair. Consistency and perseverance is what must be absorbed. I dream about this thing and me like parted lovers dream about sex. I, also, dream about sex.

Incidentally, I am deprived of it and I know it's importance when it comes to keeping nerves calm and staying focused  Funny but true. An enlightened one once told me, the factual authenticity of which I dare not question for it sits well with the reasoning, that people should start having sex at an early age, well, not ridiculously early but comparative to the Indian ethically correct age for sex. That helps create poets and artists and well sorted  out people. Well sometimes there could be dogs and pillars too. It is all about feeling great. You need to feel physically great to levitate mentally. Some can have it by shopping, or LSD, or MARIJUANA[respect], or eating chocolate icecream or something. Some have it by SEX.

So, I digressed there.

I need that camera. I wont tell you which. I'll SHOW you which. If you love SAPM enough already, kindly donate or something?

I am begging, like.

On a brighter note, I will be supremely glad to survive tomorrow's presentation. Tomorrow is Sunday, also.

FML.

I'm leaving the internet.

Like, yeah, right.

You don’t go easy when someone calls you pretentious and escapist as often as a constipated man’s fart. Just hours back I was crying about having no friends present to hang out with and now because of some private reasons, the non-existent entities I had befriended have rattled on my knuckles the great lesson of forbidding to put faith on anything you haven’t a proof of existence. I understand you might be having a bad day. You might have needed to get it out on someone and you found that I could be the one but I’m sorry for being so inconvenient. If not, then that was plain mean to judge me from my blog/writing/ranting/lifestyle/whatever. Or you just haven’t known so many people and I might have come out too unpleasant for your pampered nerves.

This was *truthfully* my 4^th bad experience with people I’ve tried to befriend. I’m still with my 2-3 year old friends and I positively haven’t been able to make any progress. After tonight’s agitation, I am not only very awkward, but eternally horrified to try to expand the walls of the little algae me.

We all need to get out of that feeling we need need *need* to get out of. And I was left with the following commercial as an offline message. I hate that they used a daschund in such a funnily-stupid commercial.

YOU GOTTA FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHT TO PAAAAAAAAAAAAAARTAAAAAAAAAY

Check and recheck that list of people you're going to call over for the Saturday night jam. Do you see my name in it? You know you can’t tell. You are now paranoid because you don’t want us in your partay. You are scared to death because you know we crash parties like drunk pilots crash Boeings. You know your hot little sluts are going to sleep with us and the gay little machos will dip nachos with you. You know you’re gonna look like we came in your party and we pissed on you while your girlfriends hooted topless for us. We are your worst nightmares, We are the reason you ended up such a little dork. We are the reason you wont party anymore.

Zap back into the reality.

SAPM has never partied. I’ve been in this city for two months now. It is almost suicidal kind crazy that when you ask me-

“So dewd, who’re you jammin’ weeeeth!”

I will come up with a response like,

"The whole idea of a democracy baffles me. I mean, agreed that our predecessors found it right to promote Democracy in this country because we were all freshly independent and yays and woows and yippies and Democracy seemed like the shit. But weren’t they aware of the fact that, a freshly independent nation is like a blob of flesh out of the vagina? You can’t give the wand to a blood-covered infant and ask it to make you a magical pie!?! It’ll choke itself, silly.”

So you’ll know that I am jammin’ with Socio-economics.

There have been times at the pitch black of the nights when ideas like holding a placard reading, “Need friends, not douchebags” and sitting in the middle of the Ganj area watching old folks shake their head in disgust ad little pricks suppress their laughter have come to my mind. Hell, I’ve been to bookshops and roamed around there only to find English Literature Majors carelessly pick their course books and run to bill it.

So eight weekends have gone by and I’ve managed to bag no fun. SAPM hates to party the high-school kind. SAPM likes Smirnoff flowing like heavenly manna and a maximum of 3 awesome people getting drunk on it and hitting the right kind of music, baby. That will be followed by scrap papers and white shirts scribbled with on-the-spot poetry/witty comment/ memorable word-invention episode. Followed by wearing your favorite super hero costume and jumping off the balcony of the first floor. Follwed by waking up in the hospital bed with the poetry shitz scribbled still all over you.

Where art thou, worthy party-crasher?

I just want my cola!

One of the many awkward situations SAPM has found itself to be in is a group hangout with colleagues. While every single person working here is jubilant and peppy and overflowing with Miss J kind of enthusiasm for building better bonds with work mates, SAPM finds itself shoved to a corner by its own hands[Yeah like how you put both your hands on your non-existent boobahs and press them so hard you take a couple of steps back, yeah? Do it for better understanding.] because, ladies and gentlemen, SAPM does not wish to be best buddies with people at work. The simple logic that escapes these premature work mates is that the more you cozy up with your Manager or seniors, the better chance they have to make you their goddamn bitch. Now, the general idea raving the minds of menny menny peepulz would be that why in the world would I have to be so animatingly paranoid? The answer to that lies inside the lost abyss of your minds. You probably aren’t working.

Colleagues surprise me when they make elaborate hang out plans that involve going to a mall[SAPM’s one of the most loathsome places], watching a bollywood flick which will be an electric torture and a dedicated numbing experience, shopping with “da gals” which will make SAPM crawl on the floor dragging its own weight forward and whatnots.

The simple solution I have come to generate inside my head is that seeing the extremities of beggarism I promote, and seeing how even Miss J kind happy people wouldn’t sponsor a fun trip of anyone, I pull my pockets out and shrug the fuck out of the mental-demolition plan.

Yaaas.