I want to make wine out of the pears and oranges that I bought today. My reasoning is that they taste pretty good but they won't get me drunk.
I need to get drunk enough to get back in the bed because I can go to sleep there. This is my form of time travel. If I do this until my next work day, I'll skip all the purposeless misery and go back to being worthy of my existence.
Parent's that want you to kill yourself insist on reminding you of all the people that love you and vengefully market your depression as a personal dig at those people.
My philosophy is that I can't tell the future, don't know what will happen next but, well yes I do. I'll have another drink.
If I were doing that last joke in a stand-up setting I would pretend to be drunker than I am and would shout "Yeehooo!!" at the end of it. Perfect exclamation.
I can tell the future. I usually see it in dreams. Sober dreams too. Drunken stupor dreams turn into wet dreams but only from the homeless people pissing on me behind a dumpster on the rougher side of town.
I slept 15 hours each of the last two days and I've got nothing but regrets. But, none of them are about all that bomb ass sleep. Dreaming likamufucka
Pear and orange flavored wine would be fucking dope and nobody needs to justify that shit. It just would be.
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