What?

You’re head? You are head? Your. ‘Your Head.’

Goodness. Feel better? All that? “That” was hours and hours ago. Shite comes in, shite goes out. I am fortunate in that I have, and can retain, important and exigent ideas. I don’t sling “I have no idea” upon the wall often.

Now, I would have to be vain to believe that play held much gravity, right? Grave truths ain’t my bag, here. In other’s homes...

Turn. Counter-turn. Move in more ways than one. Even you, yesterday, you had to ask me.

Counter-culture. Hypergraphic.

They’re words; that’s all. Rotten taters. Pride/prejudice. I’m taking Pride for $500.