where have we gone?
spectators are going crazy and i'm starting to sweat. it is a hot summer night, but especially in the cannon is drop to dead ... i'm not nervous, because i do not say any fucking word and no one knows that one asshole in the cannon it´s me. my wife even not worth saying ... sometimes i peep out, people in the stands like shit. the stage is still turns one star after another and warmed up those fucking mass of cowboys from Texas.
i will fly behind the stage to the net a good 90 meters, but i know i'm going on and you know, like a bird, but i will not fall back down. it's not spin anything ... all the futility and embarrassing dialogues about anything ... the essence of things anyway long ago disappeared, leaving only inflated cotton candy round. free and out of reality.
speaker has a big sombrero with a light blue suit and a bubble rolls one after another and the audience is with everyone with empty beer even noisier ...
chuck emerson, my colleague, counts three, two, one, and yet he can hear me good wishes with landing. i attended the show many times and nobody expects it would end differently than flawless fall into the net. but this time i piss over all of them!
already flying and there is no going back ... i'd like to once again sit on the patio and listened to the crickets chirp, but did not want me. perhaps only because of the cat, although who knows if she'll miss me at least ... so i´m flying through the air, nicely gaining height and the show begins to recede. People wave are excited and none of them ... pretending faces begin to recede and people no longer are small as ants. Sometimes when the wind blows, so is push me hundreds of meters to the left or right. The country is already quite small and I feel tired, but it's nice to me.
Just still kept thinking about why they are so important the tickets to the fucking ball and just rather not go hand in hand for a walk with me.... beach house - wishes