My female invited me to some David Lynch-inspired music festival in the irish countryside, which promises to be nice and weird. She’s good like that.

I’m thinking the next Culture Shock needs to reflect upon Irish drinking. It’s the big pink elephant in the room, don’t say it isn’t. But it needs to be righteous, befitting of TGO. Otherwise it’ll be a disaster.

I’ve always wanted to recollect my consciousness from within the womb (if such a thing is even possible).  Imagine if thought and sentience exists past the physical form (ie, thought after death).  I think the only thing that scares me more than being d*cked by Bulgingsnake is conscious non-existence. Thinking with no living…forever…