Zen Jokewriting Journal

Okay here comes some funny shit. My car is starting to smell like feet. Sweaty, athletic feet. Love the mixture of disgust and admiration in that. I am typing on my laptop while laying down. I never mind. My arm is tired and baseball season has nothing to do with it. I wonder if instead of a tooth fairy there's a fairy who pours maple syrup on your neck. Grime rapper Dizzee Rascal belongs to the future. He's like a villain in a Frank Miller graphic novel. Mo money mo problems. Every time I tell myself to breathe deep I hear that shitty Anna Nalick song. Subsequently I hold my breath and try to think of something else. Does a vampire ice cream shop serve blood syrup. Nevermind; fairy department.