[untitled]

i woke up and went downstairs. i went to the bathroom and found my dad standing at the mirror, shaving his teeth. 'dad...why are you shaving your teeth?' 'well,' he said, 'every time i shave off my mustache, the razor gets a little bit of my lip and my mustache grows back a little thicker on the bottom. i find now that my mustache grows down on my teeth unless i shave them too.' i detatched; i opened my body down the sides and i stepped out of it. the only way i find i can live my life is through absurdity. the only way i can preserve some minute measure of happiness is to deny the world any concessions inside my head. i went, without my body, into the kitchen to make coffee. there was no sugar. i took all of the qualities in other people that i found appealing and i put them in the blender. i made a drink of them and i downed it. now i find i'm more unsure. now i find the world more often comes knocking at my door. i wonder if there are any cuts on my brain. my dad is shaving his teeth, the little bristles of different lives i have known flutter down into a bowl of ice cream like sprinkles. everything we are is detatchable. so when life gets too heavy just peel yourself out, leave behind your skin, get the f**k out of your body.