verbal cliches buck up the fuckup (so what)

how I used to be
is how I still am oh yes
but better; is what we have
to tell ourselves, oh yes, and I aint written
the book yet, not even one,
but I still might, I'm telling you,
it all starts tonight, and I'll tell you why:
yes, I understand that North Korea
has evidently detonated a nuclear
bomb, but Buffalo is buried under
more than a foot of snow and that
bodes well for a motherfucker
like me. you know, there really is no spoon
and there realy is no why it just is what it is
and all we really have is what we do
and I got no problem lining up the cliches
and knocking them back like brews
because its pretty fucking
decent typing practice
and practice is what matters

I'm sitting here in my briefs
pouring coffee on a hangover
and it's a hard frost
out there but we're playing golf later anyway
as one more means of holding ourselves together
while secretly praying
each unto another
the eternal prayers of men; that we're one
and all going to make it through
to the best possible end,
one and all

it just seems like
an impossible dream to me, but once I write the first book I reckon then I'll have one to grow on and after I write the second I'll surely have one to sell and I'm telling you, I reckon I'll have to forge my own sword and selfsame shield
and then I'll be good for the gladiator yeah (but

just killing time here now, off the top of me head now, showing you my ass a bit, charming, hey? as I practice typing and here starteth the lesson this kind of shit is 1) better done and just deleted? yes or 2) ok for here. yes. I used to

brag to anonymous girls in bars that they didn't know who they were dealing with, charming, hey? How'd that work out for you, Mott? but you know, here endeth the lesson. no I mean, here it beginneth, here it all is here it all is here I all am waiting for nothing no, I know: one image, the

earliest measurable snowball
ever
in Chicago

right here on my plate