It's here, still pounding and pumping through my everlasting veighns of social structrure awareness, I like to start with a long sentence, it gives me purpose and joy. The female terminator of words, longer legs and better steps. I woke up today. Surprisingly engough that's a fact. Like I can see a fist coming through the smoke, a history lesson well learned. The Olympic flame a symbol of nothiness, a Southpark episode on wheels, under protest. The dogs type their little stories in the form they want so the local newspaper can sell out today, and after that we'll all go online and fly around in silly suits. Skijumping, fathopping and bunny-riding on the gigi-grid of love. So we're there, the special occasions. On stage they are fabulous I hear. They address the public and drink tea while the groupie is trying to give the drummer back his lost sticks. Her hair was always a mess when she came out. Lying on a couch and thinking about how she's only a glithc in the program. The drummer moved on. Two houses and a wife, or the other way around until the buldozer comes and tears it all down. I wished you all the best last week, jet you came no closer to a conclusion. Fried patatoes in honey and eggs. The fatness of our lives will not withold us from being succesfull transmitters of millions of one's and zeroes. Even in 3-D we'll still look the same,... the matrix action figures on dope and the superheroes on an allround camping trip. I've watched whipped cream bikini bull riding once you know. Nothing will get better anymore because we're all logged on to the same hub, on the same old round server with not extra's in sight. A planet on it's own. Owls in the night do nothing more.