Saturday, June 26, 2010

girl and her radio and the cherries

me, the girl. orange box making funny sounds in front of me, her radio. aspiring little red fruits in a jar, the cherries.

it's like romance. i even lit candles. mainly because my mom thinks my light bulb is too powerful. has she become nagging or she just likes to offer me romantic evenings with myself, we cannot say for sure as my mom is like a kindle book with password protection, you can't read her so easily. that or it doesn't really matter for the plot of this post, because there isnt any.

the girl and her radio and the cherries story is not a story. it's more of practicing typing. chances are a monkey wrote this. and if a monkey would be typing infinitely it could end up writing all this. statistically, this is very unlikely, but mathematically there is a 0,00whatever chance that this can happen. also, we all know if i had a super power it would be shifting probability. 

and i have cherries. i like having cherries because they look pretty. they look pretty and i eat them in haste. when i was younger, but shorter, and used to pick them from trees, i was really scared they might have worms and my solution was to eat them at 1.1 mach in super-cruise. and old habits die hard. and now cherries come in plastic wrapping, even though my height and aerodynamics are perfect for picking cherries. although, please!, aerodynamics for picking cherries? then you must need a bucket for speed.

my weird friend rudchil taught me it is best to share cherries but keep all muffins to yourself. if i'd known him better i'd think he doesn't care much about cherries. but i know him well enough to say his intentions with muffins are real.

"on really romantic evenings of self i go salsa dancing with my confusion."