I prefer to jot ideas down on scrap pieces of paper and then pile them up in highly noticeable stacks. I like to move the stack to a different part of my apartment and plan on doing something with the material in there but then never do anything with it actually.
Sometimes I like to drive to work listening to Buddhist meditation radio on Pandora and then somewhere about halfway I scream my fucking lungs out as loud as I can for irony's sake. Or maybe for irony's sake. I mean the rice wine, it was a bad joke. I don't know if Eastern religious folks have fake ass drunk preachers the way we do. I'm not judging, I'm just saying what the literal truth is. Some preachers are fake ass drunks. Some preachers are good at what they do, and we appreciate them. But some of them are as sober a mind as I am when I turn on my psychic powers training manual on audible.
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