Any job is a dead end job, about the only thing n life that makes life worth living is variety, that is the spice of life.

Artistry in life is living the life of an artist where you play your own games, not someone else's idea of reality, or what you have to do to be successful.

Now my brother says I am probably more normal than him, that kind of scares me. I am the freakazoid of the earth everyone knows what kind of alternative lifestyle I picked up in hell having become a whore when true love passed me by, they know I like blood, my own meaning, and

I only admitted to things when I thought I was dying. I would have told the truth anyways, that is me, but I went the extra yard because I had no life so I did everything else all the little things that make life interesting and run full circle, and now shit, when peeps see me coming they know who I am, they know what color clothes I like on women, they know how to tickle the hairs in my ears. Blah Blah Blah, and it is too late, they know what moves me. I have to go meet some eskimo girl who doesn't know who vampariah is and what he likes to do with phillups screwdrivers and slippery sleeping bags.

The truthful mouth more loose when death is abreast.