Description :
Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?
Tout est provisoire : l'amour, l'art, la planète Terre, vous, moi. Tout s'achète : l'amour, l'art, la planète Terre, vous, moi. L'homme est un produit comme les autres, avec une date limite de vente.
_Comme une envie de tout arréter. Ce blog. _Tourner la page. Car elle ne serra plus pareil. _Jamais. Qui déçoit qui ? Je sais méme plus. C'était _donnant donnant. Plus maintenant. Je me sens mal.