I am only here to reproduce. I may as well be a tree.


It’s similar to that whole ‘To be or not to be’ thing, isn’t it. I’ve not read the whole of Hamlet. I didn’t finish school.

There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide.

I’ve not read that book either, but quoting such things and giving the impression that one knows all about it makes one appear vastly more intelligent and interesting.

^ I wrote that tree bit (I’m mostly certain). A social networking site brought it back to me. Oh, what a poet. A depressed philosopher at heart. The greatest types always are. Is that what chicks like, depressed philosopher poets? I have reams and reams and jotters and jotters of this poetry. Someone once sat down and read it, and absolutely loved it. I’m not sure why. They can’t have known much about poetry. I don’t think they did. Painfully amateurish stuff, but what else is even remotely popular music? They asked me to write it out for them, but my handwriting is terrible and it would have taken ages. I offered them the whole bundle of paper, but they weren’t too enthusiastic. I don’t know where it is now. In a box in someone’s garage I should expect. I could do with it here, it would make good kindling. I don’t need it to help me recall the past, all the broken memories and lost dreams. It’s not as if I don’t spend enough time there as it is.

That’s a joke, don’t worry. I’m not going to kill myself any time in the near future. I need more money first. I live only in the present anyway. That way eternal life is mine. *wink*




This ruins the ending of my wonderful post, but look;


Tits! If you keep looking, there’s even a woman fingering another woman!