I fucking hate money, not because its the route of all evil or anything super-mega-ultra deep and insightful, I mean I hate american currency. I wish i lived 200 years ago and if I wanted something from someone I could just toss them some pelts or slap em with a fucking jewel and they'd bust their backs giving it to me.
Ladies, please stop putting cash in your tits. Those bills are filthy. It makes me not want to touch your tits. You do want me to touch your tits, don't you? I mean anyone who's ever let me do it has certainly claimed to enjoy the experience. Maybe you already have someone to touch your tits. How would they feel if you told them to fondle and smooch alexander hamilton? Yeah. Food for thought.
One of the worst feelings in the world is when you're working at a shitty job. Retail, restaurant, et cetera, and someone hands you a bill in payment and its just been sitting in a front pocket of the worlds funkiest pair of blue jeans. I'm not talking early 70's funky I'm talking oh-my-god-someone-should-tell-Carl-he-smells-like-that-he-must-not-realize-funky. What can you do, really? This crumpled and warm, ripe and moist strip of cotton and linen is legal tender. You're obligated in every way to accept it, even though once it's placed in your hand you want to toss it back at them and tell them you'd rather they pay in nickles, or in wampum, or that you'd rather drill holes in your face and let cockroaches nest within them than have to handle something so clearly soaked with their bodily fluids. It seriously makes me want to go back in time and uppercut my mother in the jaw as she's fellating my deadbeat father so that not only will I not be born and therefore not have to endure that experience within my lifetime, but also to ensure that no being even similar to me will have to know the feeling.
When I'm 74 I'll stop bathing.
On my 75th birthday I'm going to eat out and go shopping or attend an ultraporn showing on the laz0rtron, drink milk plus at the kordova milk bar, whateverthefuck. I'm going to pay with 5s and 10s stuffed into my underpants. Marinating in my old man scrotesweat. Maybe I'll go jogging to work a sweat up. Maybe global warming will prevent the need to go jogging, which is good because I'll probably have robot legs.
The point is: Fuck your great grandkids.

It's been a long time
I shouldn't have left you.
Without a dry stone
to step to.

I recently tore my left shoulder asunder.
No bones were broken but I've suffered a permanent A-C Joint seperation that'll haunt me till I rot.
Fantastic.
I'm seriously running out of drugs I can do without dire consequences.
(yay?)

time passes, and wounds heal.
abrupt changes in direction increase in distance and the path seems consistent once more
still modified, yet all that has changed within me has yet to force its way outward unto the small percentage of the worlds individuals who know me, who'd notice drastic changes.
I'll tell nobody of this, if only for fear of my own inconsistant individuality.

Done counting the days.
It worked.
I'm different.
I modified myself.
I have been reborn.
I stopped for a moment between this post and the last to lament the fact that the person I once was is dead, or mutated. Rather I felt obligated to lament over him. What I am now is what I am, and no desire to change exists anymore. I no longer rest each night uneasy, I longer stuggle daily over trivial matters like idealism, nor Her. I have overcome all that lies within me and only now can I extend my reach outward free of doubt.

Well my focus in unparralleled, and my head feels clearer than ever. I'm starting to wonder if I could feel any pain at all.... but that is kind of ruined by the fact that body doesnt seem to want to digest food anymore, and these really strange dreams unlike any I've ever had have left me slightly unsettled.

Day 1.

Living as a being void of emotion isn't all the certain stories make it out to be. I don't need anything anymore. Even that which I require to remain alive, existant, and an individual I recognize only as instinctual desires. Today's monumental task in the wake of self reprogramming will be to find a reason to exist.

She'll be better off. So will he... well probably not.... but whatever. That's her man. Go get her, you pathetic bastard.