La Vie rêvée des singes

Last night I had a great dream. I dreamt I was able to fly. Someone was flying about and I asked them how to do it. The person goes "All you have to is believe!". So I ran and jumped into the air and did believe and was flying. It was class. I flew about in a daring manner like one of those wee World War I planes at an air-show, doing loop-the-loops and all that shite. I felt exhilarated when I woke up.

I looked for deeper meaning all throughout the day, but I know that it's a simple enough message. I hope I wasn't inspired by the insipid fucking slogan for the Winter Olympics that you always hear on the TV. Believe. That's what the slogan is, they invest it with such earnest weight when the voiceover says it. Believe. Believe fucking nothing, yis cunts. Fuck your making everything venerable. 

That's what modern life is, alas. People ruin everything for the wee. 

The two most inspiring books I've ever read are:

-Conrad Hilton's autobiography

-Paolo diCanio's autobiography

My dream was brilliant. 

The picture at the top was sent to me earlier as part of a forwarded story email, and is so hauntingly strange that I thought I would include it.

It's actually me and Wee Chub-Chub going for a walk in the future dressed as cowboys.