What? I'm awake for chrissakes in Adjunct to 8/9/2013 flash friday; a trinity of flashs

Me (me, me) and You (you, you)
God only knows it’s not what we would choose (pause, pause)
To do (pause, pause to do) — Pink Floyd

I might have skipped a line or two. In the grand scheme of things, the great counting of shits and fucks, I’d say it was wash in that I neither took a shit or gave a fuck. I don’t really understand how that works though. I think it’s a bit like Santa’s infamous list of naughty and nice; some instances demand that the moral high ground involves some manner of give a shit or a fuck. It’s much clearer when taking one, though, not as clear as, say, taking a zagnut bar which is always theft unless you’re a hungry crippled child and it’s Christmas and then the store owner is an asshole for not letting you just steal his inventory. Taking a shit isn’t theft, rather the opposite, and taking a fuck isn’t an expression, but if it were it sounds like it’d be bad. In British English taking a the piss is a friendly ribbing, I mean if you get caught, otherwise it’s a not so friendly ribbing.

Now shit and fucks have overshadowed my blatant disregard for the chronological order of words in a 43 year old album (that’s guess, but I bet I’m closer give or take a year). It’s even possible I put them in the right order, but now this page is just a killing floor for shits and fucks. Again, the stock market comes to mind, an open bay with red faced men in business predatory fashions are furiously trading shits and fucks. Buy shit low sell fuck high and when that golden greater fool comes by see if you can get him to fuck his own shit. Um, metaphorically. The greater fool isn’t really a fool, he’s a rube, he has no guile.

My smartphone is much smarter than I am, but I am still the muscles of this operation if not the brains. Mobile phone just means it’s portable, it can’t really go anywhere under it’s own power. Not only does it need me to cross the room, but, without me having anyone to call, bejeweled to play, emails to check, the phone has no purpose or direction. It might be the smarter, but it’s a parasite.

Wow. I went to lie down for a minute because I think I was boring myself to death, and some thing made a big thud, um, right here, in the direction of the keyboard as it’s spatial relationship is to the bed. What the hell what the hell what the hell? I’m not sleepy anymore. I’m still bored.

Y’all be nice to one another and quit banging around in my attic, wouldja’?