Oneday getting sick

I asked Laurent what he thought “commies” stood for.
They are a first year group in Arts that focus on comunication.
Naturally I thought of them as the Russians. They wore blue shirts however, so I was hesitant to bridge the connection.
So Laurent goes; Commies? It’s like “magic tricks for dummies”.
It’s not the real thing, its a play on words.
Amazing where the mind can lead you. So wrong, so out there.

Do you believe that you can actually influence people, or just comply with the rudimentary life and death question.

I wish I was motivated by sex like all the rest. That way my energy would be right for all, or at least some.
A constant. ICK.
To redress with girls of my teenage years. My chemical imbalances.

If you graduated and you could have something golden what would you choose to have?
“A golden carrot” (on a stick)

I would arrive, present from a waking dream. Toothless with half a digested golden carrot lodged in my digestive tract.
-This was a ramble to the young exchanges students I had for company.
Fleeting understanding of a group whose second language is my first.
Quickly now, down the rabbit hole; confusion and a stream of babbling follow.

“I let my subconscious throw up when it feels like it”

I met MARC – the Vice President “the guy with the money”, of uOttawa.
And then bumped into him again on the stairs later on that day.

This is an olive branch.
Give you my love’s chance.
This is me in earnest.
Trust the feeling as furnace’d.

So, many problems.
Issue to take.
All’ve got one.
For goodness sake.


I am getting sick.
So fucking tired.

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