Hells Cupcakes
My current routine is quite simple. Upon waking I like to spend some time simply lying peacefully. I drag this out for as long as I can to increase the possibility that I may have a major stroke while I'm in a nice comfortable position. After a while it usually becomes quite clear God wants to me to get out there and at very least ruin some other dickhead's day and I slip into my comfortable, elastic waisted internet surfing pants and make two slices of toast that stare back at me and ask, "You again" like evil twins covered in crumbs. Or made of crumbs? Who knows. Perhaps we'll never know.
Breakfast is my least favourite time of the day because I am also on the internet being reminded most people who say stuff and talk words are an argument for ethnic cleansing, genocide or any of the cool processes that make piles of dead people. I like my coffee just so and then it's time to get on my bicycle and go for a ride to really clear my head by muttering to myself for a hour.
Once I've got my creative juices going I am ready to return home to work in the very focused space we call "crushing loneliness" and "why do I work at home" and "this is fucked". This rigorous practice continues until my partner comes home and I can put on the special face harness that makes babbling incoherently at her a thing of the past.
As a middle class white man I give thanks every day for my immense privilege. To think that I am blessed with the opportunity to compete on the Capitalist playing field using my soul as a football! I feel such guilt that I am this lucky and sometimes I have to pinch myself really hard just to feel something that isn't boundless gratitude.
Some might be detecting citrus notes of negativity squirting them right in the reading glasses, but what's happened is I can't work out how to download the latest episode of Hannibal and I am therefore lost as a human being. Oh and also all my friends were pepper sprayed last week while fighting off Nazis and all Australia's Cupcake Left had to say was, "You failed to set up the right healing vibes, you deserved everything you got."
That may have tainted my view a bit. Yeah, just a tad.
My girlfriend took this picture. Isn't she terrible?
Breakfast is my least favourite time of the day because I am also on the internet being reminded most people who say stuff and talk words are an argument for ethnic cleansing, genocide or any of the cool processes that make piles of dead people. I like my coffee just so and then it's time to get on my bicycle and go for a ride to really clear my head by muttering to myself for a hour.
Once I've got my creative juices going I am ready to return home to work in the very focused space we call "crushing loneliness" and "why do I work at home" and "this is fucked". This rigorous practice continues until my partner comes home and I can put on the special face harness that makes babbling incoherently at her a thing of the past.
As a middle class white man I give thanks every day for my immense privilege. To think that I am blessed with the opportunity to compete on the Capitalist playing field using my soul as a football! I feel such guilt that I am this lucky and sometimes I have to pinch myself really hard just to feel something that isn't boundless gratitude.
Some might be detecting citrus notes of negativity squirting them right in the reading glasses, but what's happened is I can't work out how to download the latest episode of Hannibal and I am therefore lost as a human being. Oh and also all my friends were pepper sprayed last week while fighting off Nazis and all Australia's Cupcake Left had to say was, "You failed to set up the right healing vibes, you deserved everything you got."
That may have tainted my view a bit. Yeah, just a tad.
My girlfriend took this picture. Isn't she terrible?
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