Respectfully speaking, I'm no woman hater. I'm not a man. I'm not a woman either. I am a fan. Just a fan. Fancy that, huh?
Solid 7.5/10 so yeah, I Fancy That. Fancy a plain Jane too. Not saying that that the pink female panther is plain but speaking plainly, I love planes. And being a pilot so yeah, that makes a plane Jane. Plain as the plane she is the pilot of, plane Jane is no mere pilot but a pilot episode which will end with a crash-out. Guaranteed. Always, it will end with a crash-out but she gets to decide when she wants to have the crash-out. Isn't that a privilege? Deciding when you go out, I think, is an incredible privilege. So is being pretty.
Pretty privilege is real and it can be weighed. I did and the answer was fruity. An apple was the answer. A apple was the answer and yes, it was bitten. In other words, Apple. In other words, Apple Park. That is where those who have pretty privilege, those called 'baddie' (like a manga ending) go to work. Parking the bus on their virginity no more, the baddie opens up to a looksmaxxer and children come out. That's work in the Apple Park; To give birth to children so beautiful, they are deemed 'too good for this world'. In other words, they are better off out of this world. In other words, they must leave this world and they do. To leave is their purpose. They are spaceship babies so they must leave for a ship in space. Spaceship babies are their name because the Apple Park is nicknamed 'The Spaceship.' Also, Apple Park is a real spaceship made alive by aliens with the assistance of a bombshell but more on that later.
Purpose. Purpose. Purpose. What is Purpose? Per pose. Purpose is per pose and pose is prose without the r and the r is for rating. Ratting. Ratted. Snitched. Snitching per pose is worth…something so to get this…something, I will snitch while in a pose like I'm in a posse cut (cut me some slack please if you do not find this s**t cutesy. I'll cut and paste my thoughts from my mind to here really quick then I'm out) so here it is. I love war. I hate death. But war brings about death so how do I solve this conflict of interest?
By making a war that that does not kill is how. Thus, enter Logomachy. A war of words, it is the perfect solution to death for words do not kill people. That said, they do hurt reputations and when reputations are burnt to rock bottom, losers of their war are left hollow. Left soulless, they are merely a corpse and we all know what happens to a corpse.
What happens to those who win the war? They become a PROTAGON1ST. Who participates in the war? All wordsmiths. And those who are not? What about them? They can never be a PROTAGON1ST. Oh, what a bummer. Not really for they are rewarded in other ways. What other ways? Wish I knew. Still thinking of them so I can't speak on them much but I do have a theoretical idea, a skeleton of an idea based that can be applied to a gunslinger, one of those who is not a wordsmith. A gunslinger gets to shoot their shot. In other words, no one else can which means that only they can express romantic interest in someone which means that for the rest of the men → BLEAK!
Reminds me of ShoeOnHead (she says it so well) whose videos I absolutely love. And her too. I absolutely love her persona but I cannot help but I can't help but wonder how I can be effortlessly awesome like her. Should I put on a shoe on my head? Should I? Maybe?
I did and guess what? I was not instantly made awesome like her. I did, however, listened to some shoegaze and found out that I could actually tolerate it. That's high praise from me so thanks to ShoeOnHead for making shoegaze tolerable again. Or rather, for making shoegaze go from an absolute L in my head to a lowercase wiener sized l.
loneliness. It's like smoking 15 cigarettes a day is what some important guy said. Guess that means loneliness is smoking hot. Like a bombshell. A bombshell love bombs. A bombshell comes out of her shell to explode on social engagements. A bombshell has the 'hotness that can launch a thousand ships.' 👀
Yes, it can but I don't want it to be like Helen of Troy because she is from way back and I'm all for progress and my setting is postmodern. "Post modernity to the Post Office and the answer will be mailed back," I was told. In a dream. By a bird. It was a bird dream but more on that never. Nevertheless, I did post modernity to the Post Office and to my total surprise, got back an answer.
It was a walnut. Ate it and …postwalnut clarity.