I love swearing at people in Quebec French even though I live in Toronto. The confused looks are worth the price of admission.

The past night I had one of the most fascinating dreams I have had in some time. It was a symbolic representation of my being a dead thing made alive again and that I could "break the rules" in the context of it only because I "was dead", as a child told me in it. To which I replied, "That is correct, I am something like that, and here I am, animating with the spirit into that which is dead." This was leagues profound as the unconscious distilled these core aspects of belief and being, made them manifest, and gave life to them in a narrative that was clear as day what it meant if not exotic.

T'es une poule mouillée.

The more I deal with people in general the more I recognize I want less to do with them but they are everywhere, inescapable by and large.

<Snipped quote by WitchHunter>

T'es une poule mouillée.

So far today, I had two bowl movements. They both broke the water line. Do you enjoy that feeling of your gut right after a bowl movement, were your gut is so much changing because it lost shit?

I have been told that my eyes are unnerving.