It’s all about being consistent and not wavering and never letting on what your secret formula may be. It’s a sleight of hand and it’s gotta be quick and abrupt and, most of all, shocking, otherwise a great snore descends over the sky and the thunder bolts sound muted and lazy in the late Spring heat.

Wade into the water falling from the sky ripping at the gravelly road on which you walk. Great pectoral muscles ripple in the tiny atoms dispensed in puddles gathering dust and termites.

See how much nonsense there is.

Don’t be bashful of anything. Drop your pants and slink into the night, watchful of the weary trash cans collected on specific routes. There’s disease here. Don’t take any medicine for it, though, or they may be unwanted consequences, such as bloated bladders and hypertension in your head. You would try to explode the entire world in one try. Failing you’d gain a deep sense of depression. But there’s a special drug-of-choice for this specific ailment too. It also cures chronic sex syndrome. Be careful with it. Sit in many bathtubs. Chop down all trees. Marry yourself to the idols of Christmastime.

But, in the end, don’t worry. All is well. The Earth is still spinning on it’s hell-fast axis. People are still passing each other in hallways without notice. And all our lives are still private.