sunday mornings

oh yeah, on sunday mornings i like to get woken by my landlord and sit up with a raging hang-over, stagger to the kitchen to find a supply of cold water while my toilet gets fixed. then i like to sit down and type stuff like this while smoking a cigarette and debating whether making yet another of those resolutions to curtail the whole drinking, partyin' scene would be a totally lame move, probably.

I can like hardly see straight, I'm on another plane of reality entirely right now, it's a painful one, maybe i'll go take a shower, then it's off to class, sunday mornings mean the history of rock n' roll for me these days, and I always wind up showing to class with a bleary aura of booze clinging to me as i attempt to participate in that grand experiment of higher education.

yeah, that's right, the jester is going to school! Yep, further inquiries confirm it's truth, the finite jester may one day be teaching your children, yeah man, the cat that wrote 'the truth about chickens' hopes to be paid to warp the minds of future generations, teaching them to like read and stuff, or better yet annoying the grey matter right out of college students in some institute of higher learning...

yep, that'd be a laugh. Trading places; me up at the front of the class in my jester hat, the next generation of movers and thinkers showing up all reeking of booze from last night's debaucheries...

ok kids, that's it for this post, stay tuned fer finite jester to expound upon the definitions of 'utopia' and 'philosopher' and maybe if you all behave, i'll tell you a story... so be good, faithful readers {who the hell does he think he's kidding} and i'll be back after class...