a human friend of mine carved this to me in a digital block: "there was just something in the tone of your writing that made me sad and made me think you were unhappy, angry with the world"
i think i'm about the same as I always am, which is generally pretty "happy." maybe that's not in a traditional sense of the word though. i am certainly always baffled/entertained by, and questioning of, experience---which is stimulating and causes me to smirk and giggle. does that mean happy? one might would guess to oneself that everything i write has a certain fibrous quality to it---like central american meat---but in that case, i would challenge them to use a knive and his or her molars. of course, i'm not Ruth Chris or one of those other popular philosophers, but i'm free and pretty like the devotee of delphi.
perhaps my seeming obscurity (which, I find to be quite precise) and caustic sarcasm towards you-and-i-don't-know-who at times leaves people not having my experience to feel a bit disconnected or put-off by me. this is silly. i obviously want friends if i am communicating.
but seriously, get a bialetti italian percolator (class series)! i swear you will never want to drink that nasty drip coffee (which uses more coffee grains to make less worse-tasting coffee and creates the gross oils that make me sad in three hours) again.
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