the day cycle

I sleep-type sometimes. I mean, not right now of course, because I’m not talking about flying leprechauns trying to pull some sort of banditry with my belly-button lint, but other times. Usually I write angry letters to my neighbors about how their house is painted too loudly and it’s hard to sleep with all that colorful racket, and how they should probably listen to their grass more often and… you know, not hack the heads off of the poor stuff with an electric motor, powering a spinning razor of death beneath it. Grass are people, too, man. I have heard the cries of the carrots.

Oh, I’ve lived all sorts of places in my life, and always there’s some annoying neighbor with really loud paint on his house. It’s like a cacophony of color. Hmm, no, I don’t think I can revive that line of funk without making myself sound even more crazy than I’ve already made myself out to be. Haha…

I’m usually a good neighbor to have – quiet, I keep the yard in order and even give my neighbors free raspberries when I have more than I know what to do with. Those jerks just don’t know how good they have it. lol