Jump Into My Mouth and Breathe

Black Moth Super Rainbow kick ass.

My room is so isolated. It's cold, and it's small, and it's quiet. Except for my stereo. I don't know why my mum and step-dad complain about noise coming from it, seeing as I never hear them.

I have a lot of memorabilia made for me by my friends all over my room. Stuck to my computer are a note attatched to a brown paper bag that Jacko gave to me, which says "Wess-lel 'King of the Titans' Rosen", and a signed yearbook picture of Flynn McCormack from seventh grade, on which he wrote "Keep rappin and givin fly beats."

My closet door is decorated with other memorabilia. A copy of "Ceci N'est Pas Une Pipe" is the only thing that's not original, I think. There are two of mine, a photo tryptich and a print of that Cavvagio portrait that I drew glasses on. It was supposed to be like that Duchamp piece, "L.H.O.O.Q." Then there's a lot of art by Adam Dunlavy, mostly doodles, because he's incroyable and unmatchable. Then there's a drawing by my little sister, mostly squiqqles, that she did over a copy of a Satie piece. Then there's a poem Smokler did, called "A Pox on Thee, O Wesley". There's a page torn out of a physics textbook, there's a love note from Jacko, there's an ad for a Grizzly Bear show.

That was unbeievably pointless.

Today Britain passed this reform that would put a super tax on bonuses received by bankers, some huge rate like 50% or something. I can't even imagine how anyone could oppose this. Not only does it pump badly needed money into their gov't, it humbles the pigs in the banking system. Will they all leave because their bonuses will be taxed? Maybe. Would they be foolish for doing so? Definitely. What's better, $100,000 (or pounds, I suppose), or nothing? We should adopt a similar plan.

That post was so much more boring than Zaynah's last one. Sorry, internet.

Love,
Wesley