I don't want to eat cake ever again.

Today is the 23rd. I remember 23, as a number. I like that number. Not nearly as much as 9, though. I feel like doing math homework, something I usually dread. There is no expression, no feeling in it. You can get lost in it, like a deep jungle. That and pointless words.
For once, I don't really want to write my own words.
My own words are inadequate. My own words wern't a #1 New York Times Best Selling Novel.
I had a dream about George Harrison last night. That, and David Bowie's famous Ziggy pumps. Or something around that.
I feel like dunking my head in a barrel of liquified tree stumps. Crashing into the new age. Painfully, singing, It's a drive in Saturday...
She'd sigh like Twig the wonderkid, and turn her face away.
I want to grow up now. Just right now. There is no color here. There was an hour ago.
I don't like cake any more. It seems bitter on the back of my tounge.
I want to watch a Monty Python sketch.

OKAY, FORGET WHAT THAT WAS ABOUT- Those things tend to happen XD I find random writing in different places. TWIG THE WONDER KID.
Well, speaking of a Monty Python sketch, which I watched a few hours ago, this is the best face I've seen all day

She buried her cat ahead of time, because it wasn't doing well. Wouldn't want to come home from vacation to a dead cat, would you?


Okay. It's been some time. I am nearly done with Donatello's hands, and am done with his shoes. (Besides the sanding, painting, laces, and other things I may have to do)
I broke a hole in one of the heels, though XD
It'll be good once I sand it.
WELL, THAT IS ALL. PEACE AND LOVE, PEACE AND LOVE. GOOD NIGHT. HAVE A NICE TIME SLEEPING, AND WHATEVER ELSE YOU MAY DO AFTER DUSK AND BEFORE DAWN.

I think I will eat cake again, I don't remember why I didn't want to, so there you go. LET THEM EAT CAKE.