the Guru of Getting Away from It All

in other news, i am a shark. television is the buoy attached to a line that leads to capitalism's boat, and the buoy tires me until i have to go to the surface and buy something out of boredom. when i breach the surface, the chum line almost overpowers me. i remember now why i came close to the boat in the first place. Thinking it will lead me to something big and immobile, an easily acquired dinner, I follow the chum to its source. It actually leads me to another harpoon in my sandpaper skin.

last night boredom bought my attention, and i bought it a tank of gas and some 30 odd miles of driving. boredom and i consummated our love near mile marker 312, when the wheels slipped out from underneath me for a split second and i thought i had purchased some death instead of a mere night's wandering. i let boredom off and picked some righteous anger. righteous anger and i came to the conclusion, after a fair amount of grapplilng and groping in the dark, that it would be worth it to piss on myself in front of a large unforgiving crowd if in exchange someone would take my car off my hands for the amount i've put into it. i need an old truck that i can walk away from with no qualms if something goes wrong. going going gone.