Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Yo, the Jeffersonian institute called in a way shape form analogy in which you may not comprende nor understand, well touché on that. Goldamm. Well. William styron is dead, que tragedy. For real, though, great great talent. Even though he didn’t finish a book since 79, well, still, hey, lookee um, that guy, you know, whut wrote huck finn, dammitt, not that, the one with Caulfield brandonson, dammit, no. um, who sean connery played an analogy of him in that finding forrester movie, you know, the one they said drank his own piss? He only wrote like one book, er, well, a bunch, but none since, shit, you know whut I mean, so anyway, it’s not how much, it’s how good, even if you only write one quality sentence in your whole life, it’s more than what most people, including this fuckdouche (moi) did, so I have to go home now and try and write my magnum opus, and I’m not talking about the penguin or the, uh, catsup mustard sounding dillio. Bye.