I like to keep readers informed with what I do, besides restaurant reviews and spontaneous poetry, when the clock starts ringing during the TV episodes and the shimmer of la la la la lava lamps. I've earned nearly fifteen hundred thousand points in "Raiden" for the Atari Jaguar, and I remember John Lennon's recall for even space and matching faces since my Bakersfield radio station was pumping juice and really displaying the sounds that flow with others' imaginations. A joystick is not a lamp. The ready Punch Monster drink was spectacular, me sitting on an unfinished bed two halves of an hour ago with memories of excusable deer into our fences, and of course giving my mom the feed for house reconstruction and maintenance. Sometimes, I wonder how so many drug addicts feel so powerless eventually. I suppose people very much get poor sensations after enduring great laps of pain and achieving negative characteristics such as burnt passion or gross humor, so there's commotion between dieting and drug management. It's personal preference for a sensible drug user myself not to promote abuse, yet strangers often absorb school lessons before leaving centers with mentalities over substances and organization warnings. Business and government are terms that don't necessitate any distinction between their concepts, for citizens might disclose details in private settings while being extravagant against the public eye. Existing particulars co-exist as our pains convey our psychologies, or public bitterness serves as a tale forwarded to conundrums. Tehachapi is my home and I intend to make proper etiquette, designing the environment with gusto and peeling off the lamp shades for better pictures, basically ensuing, meanwhile pursuing articulation rather than cognition for perfection. It's this minute where information kind of gets at me because my thoughts interfere with each other prior to finishing their positions in that cerebellum. So, do I hate or love McDonald's? To tell readers, who are concerned about their health, the truth, I've smoked on occasion, swam the open waters, tumbled down on poor feet, became a bully against bullies, stopped for some cheeseburgers while also pursuing the grey features of my hat (which I borrowed from dad). Short nickles wake these senses within my own duration; as another way of saying it, a guy's inflicted spirit in conflict with various decisions over pathes. My right hand wants to eat its fingers. Terrible happenings tend to personify my awkward love for crooked joysticks and blushing mixed soda, however pointed histories become, whatever progresses from my returns of packages. Ebay seems like a personal and impersonal number at the same coincidence, since Ebay workers just pull the public's strings for customers deserting principles for unwanted sums. Whew! Maybe labor is a kind of sorrow for Alex's personality (Me), then I'm back on the engine with exorbitant language and real discoveries about "Pitfall" and "Galaxian." Lunch is common for my routine and generally outside. It takes moments of stagnation for this body, which is my self, to tip-toe through the thin living room, about the Intellivision 2 ("intelligent television by Mattel") toward shoebox cartridges and working discs, successfully implanting myself into hygienic space, combating goals and pushing bubbles, tearing away at the innovation and genuine technology of an old 80's pop console. Wear and tear are elements to used beauty, an idea to be proved with my feel for the Atari 5200 Super System Joystick, its touch of grinded powder due to over 25 years of usage, and (like Star Wars) feeling the force between the eye-less phantoms who refuse fruit and strictly wander for Pac-Man, my character and a main one for "Pac-Man" for the Atari 5200 Super System. I've got lucky with old machines, although I've had to alter the joysticks for the Colecovision and the Atari 5200 Super System. Lord Karnage (a pretentious Youtube name for a gamer who whines) errs with his controlled stipulation for certain gaming consoles, and he should consider that his form of concentration for plane games and racing games shows an identifiable bias for fun and entertainment. It's painstakingly difficult to pity a whining boy! Across the gaming population, there are those who purport to hatred in response to specific joysticks and controllers and devices. While they may say in slangish prose "this controller sucks," I might venture to guess "get into the devices." A gamer's disinterest can be so vague, me included, but it's possible to have love while hating technology, so there should be more romance and intimate comprehension that isn't so obvious and tiring. So, what about McDonald's? McDonald's restaurants have been selling Pokemon toys, and they'd look particular in cuteness to me while I'd cobble up slivered grilled onions and fancy ketchup, so I take minimal steps toward environmental awareness. Artificial nature is still nature. Liars about McDonald's believe that meat usually is compromised with worms; so I give conditions to their success of credibility for informing the unknowing ones, with specifics that can be clarified with two single worded phrases, "lonely palms." This is a confession about results that have abounded from some people's relapse; arcade games often present themselves militaristic and fanatical, and imagine trolls swimming on the internet for a real digression other than the monotony of soft commercials with a lack of generosity. I've tried gaming online, and so many players cuss and swear about their personal belongings, including themselves. There's philosophic reasoning behind this. I theorize that vulgarity and arrogance revolve around that same bad habits, and people of those categories are often manipulative while acting cool. (Strange, huh?) In all seriousness, the vulgar say "I kick ass" while the arrogant say "I kick ass." Perhaps these passions revolve around the similar light of prejudice in the form of selfishness, but unwanted support can be proved wrong. Readers may not know this, but I watched wrestling as a kid and my mind got hindered. My dad believes that the young need to see violence, which demonstrates his lack of attention and careless sauciness. So, while 7 years of age, I watched Arnold Schwarzenegger pull his eye out as the terminator in Terminator, all bloody with no hint of peace for the worn robot. My judgement is formed within the matter of self-pity and excessive attention spans. With ADD, I paid little attention early on in my childhood, but my teachers forced unreasonable lessons upon my psyche, which resulted in my eventual excessive attention span. Math used to be more friendly than people for a bully against bullies, so I got high grade point averages and exhaustible attitudes towards physical education teachers.
So, I hope this talk is considered, and I hope readers listen to my poetry and restaurant reviews!
As they say in the Czech language, "Ahoy!"
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