Thursday, December 13, 2007
Ringu Lipsatsu
Be warned.
The ancient Japanese Legend speaks of a Ringu Lipsatsu, the legend of the Kissy Lips.
Seven days after viewing those lips, you’ll turn into a herp sore.
Just as these two Bleethed Jerseyites have fallen.
Those lips.
They haunt me like Brechtian theater. A spectacle of hyper-reality within a false structure that finds truth. Like smelly cowpie on a farm in Vermont. The odor of poopie as the means of refracting my own psychoanalytic absence.
Nope. The coffee did nothing.
