D|o|G, 2019 | Det gamle Europa er i en febertilstand, og det rumler i dybet, mens spir, der før knejsede mod himlen, styrter brændende til jorden. D|o|G – Diaper of Glory – er samtidens termometer, der aflæser tilstanden og aflægger rapport; en seismograf, der ubønhørligt, systematisk og med knusende ro registrerer rystelserne, så ingen kan lukke øjnene for dem.
The unforgiveable attractive corpse of Michael J. Fox Jackson
I received five phone calls from two dead people from a head-on car collision earlier today, and all I have left is a warm Fanta on the floor of a million-dollar apartment I got from my millionaire dad for being a bratty loud-mouth. Talk about feeling unwanted. KH et rigtig rigtig gammelt lokumsbræt.
My toast friend and headless Snickers infant are both encompassing the idea of having a great/horrible time dining in an unlocked airport bathroom.
I always wear all my clothes on top of my head when I colour the shaft of my neighbour’s foam dildo in order to give a straight/mixed signal to the front door of lower-class Manhattan/my pile of reptile coloured and handwritten saxophone bills.
I see sky. Sky sees me. Land sees me, looking at the sky. Sky then looks at land and hands me ferociously to the land. I now own an octopus hat.
Ken and Ben have befriended Nicole and Ashley. They all 4 decide to go for a lovely dinner around 20ish. As the time for the dinner arrives, Ken and Ben do not show up. Why? Because Ken and Ben grow 1500 kilometres below Christmas. It should hardly be a surprise to anyone that this little tale was neither a morale nor an anecdote, but instead a full curriculum on modern micro horse dating.
This is the last time, before it remains to be seen if it will be the first time, that I accidently live as a condescending cocktail drinking ox for 58 years inside a 2008 Office pack, floating nectarine spoon.