Showmanic Clown Word Salad

 The gibberish of a drooling cave-dweller...

Showmanic Clown Word Salad

Pretty fucking thankful a bunch of people tuned me out. Popularity and traditional success are just burdens. The more I get abandoned the more powerful I become.

People have always been so upset that I express my humanity, vulnerability, nihilism and even humor so public-facingly. Damn. Get your panties out of a wad already. If social media is going to commodify us, I'm gonna use it like it's 2014. Laughter and showing everyone their absurdity is my medicine to the world. Some people need to get over themselves.

BDSM and standup are hugely similar. Who is on top & who is bottom? No one really knows. Clowning and tension buildup, are we getting off already? Our faces hurt.

It's gonna be hugely ok even if things feel not ok. Those of us who're tuned in know. Our ancestors lived through what felt worse. I'm not saying it's getting better, not at all. We just know better now.

Half-formed, they offer fruit and bones to visitors. The meat of the dead. Stay with us a minute, but not for too long. Too much nihilism will make you unpopular. And we wouldn't want that. The lines are all blurred now. Comedy, tragedy, auto/biography and farce.

I wake early, and have merged into the animals of early morning. A friend shows me he can shapeshift into a Prince of Cats. Another shows me he flies like a bird, well-actuallying angry dinosaur incels into the ground. Tenderness is overrated. So are second chances. Fifty fucking fuccboi chances. Forty words attempting proper grief, spit into the void. Forty days we mourn. Seven times seven and five upon five curses upon those who steal. That means you, richboys. But what is power, anyway? A thing to be taken, consumed, loved, then thrown away. One day you're on top, the next day you're just a spectre, walking Night Town, running after a past remembrance. Remembering a thing you did once with a person who used to matter.

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