becuz is a little narration of an ego death and a bunch of people you meet. now in black and white to save some bucks.
do you find yourself asking "why?" trying to lose 5 pounds fast or make a quick buck or day hooking or losing track of your authentic self?
well it's me here, the emotion machine and i'd like to set some things straight and also introduce you to some of my friends. when doctor Freud invented emotions in the 1890s he had no idea how popular they'd become.
oh, well here comes my physical trainer dr. Beef: he said do you ever feel what you'd call a "negative sensation?" do you ever resent yr body, which can get in the way of goodtimes? do you ever wish instead of piece of aching fishy flesh you were simply a brain in a yellowgreen jar of vinegar? you've had a body almost yr whole life and what of it? you barely use the thing. when yr in the shower you only scrub the highlights. of course you remember the honeymoon years, when u figured out locomotion and the uh particular brand of acupressure if-you-know-what-i-mean?
that's what the book's about.
what's on the idiot box? oh, him? we keep him there because he has become addicted to corners. the news: is man a bad species? see more at 11. are we all insane? or just Charlie?
but can get off the television and just speak about the "intimate act" for a moment? the tippy top on the haunted hay ride called "human experience."
yesterday i saw a hit flick called "while i'm naked" in the genre of "help i'm a teenage werewolf/alcoholic " and it got me thinking. i took my very illustrated kama sutra off the wall and then you may have noticed i never came back. . .
okay it's me the emotion machine speaking now you may have noticed my exhaust has turned black. no it does not mean i have not decided on the new pope. it's much worse.
yes, it's me, the emotion machine. do you feel it yet? i have a scale model of the human heart in my office but i think there was a mistake at the factory cuz the coin slot seems a tad too big. but let me tell you about my predecessor, The Poet: he faked his death. and then he didn't move eat drink blink or speak for 70 years until he died.