Piss poor attempt at connection
I count my self as a nice man.
I don’t count myself as a taxed man.
I count myself as a bean counter,
I don’t count myself as a counter culture
I’m recognisably well dressed
In polyester suit and nylon tie
And I have a series of forms to fill in
I’m your IRS
The thigh John need tv brewing
It’s arrived here, the round trio genetic informal matter. The pleasant redoubts of home. Where are times that we have formed, have not stopped have-nots: any spots have somehow been any more than we wanted to be that they have gone
Jesus Christ, Silicon Valley!
You’ve probably heard the news. No, you’ve definitely heard the news, because it’s Monday and you’ve been reading tech blogs all day, slowly burning your investors’ money. “Keeping tabs on the industry,” of course.
Anyway. I’m proud and elated and effervescent (and really fucking loaded) today after having been acquired by Yahoo!
Goddamn, what a moment for me.
As I got older
I thought I’d get warmer, tweedier and more pipe smoking
(As I’m never giving up nicotine)
And maybe I’d swap cigarettes for pipe tobacco, t shirts for tweed, and cosy reminiscence for love
Instead I’m a white haired hatred nucleus, a bitter kernel of intense betrayal
A tall man made smaller by little syrupy, plausible stories, that turn out to be
Worse and evil, because they are stupid lies, that rely on my willing and specific lacuna
So, fuck you old age, and its calming honey, fuck you in the eye
I hate like a young man still
Mainly today. Going in an envelope tomorrow