lotuseater_says lotuseater themselves, being the pushers of the buttons, have taken a liking to the kinsfolk of the ever-folding dinnerware. han solo had been coughing up small figurines of buddha while clint eastwood was giving birth to a manatee. i knew something had gone wrong when the transvestites had begun screaming about stuffing babies down spike lozenges, effectively stopping the power train from derailing and destroying at least eleven innocent trolly workers on their way home from the great deluge. guiche had to find his way back home in the field of wet and darkness. the alchohol had just begun to settle into the innards of our beloved, and the buzzards had begun to come down upon the brows of eight characters. "play those drums louder, the insects cannot quite feel it." 040626 ... lotuseater motor cart lapse. where is my father? a gallon of whiskey and five hours. cough syrup panhandle beyond. my quest has gone on for too long, where are the little majesties? they show me things... unlocking doors. 050225 ... lotuseater smash apart mindset. destroy what you once thought was worth keeping whole. rejoice in your monkey body. do as much drugs as you can handle. scream more. sit quietly without blinking. fast. listen to music that you think you dont like. cook a meal. draw with crayons. mutilate your genitals. carve obscene words into your chest. peel the skin back. relax and enjoy a grilled-cheese samdwich. dont believe anything you hear (or read.) 051217 what's it to you? who go blather from