i have weak ankles that sometimes just give out on perfectly even ground

i believe
i believe
i believe

i do, i belive in the concept of believing. belief. concepts. i think they are not different than air or water or footballs or ginger ale or blood or pinpricks. no different than oceansmell or deprevity or cathartic music. boring music. refridgeratorhum. belief like fluid in a carborator. belief like i was eight once. belief, my fear of failure and my ability to hemophilically bruise. to be a complete cuntbag...if only to be funny.

i've been trying to get my index finger to pass seamlessly through the space-age plastic of my water bottle. this is the plastic that they use for NASA. i believe that atoms are mostly vaccuous. i am mostly water. i believe in osmosis and ions. i believe that things are concepts.

but, apparently, not enough.

i can't make it happen.

i, luckily, i think, never had to deal with god. god was never more than santa claus - much less, in fact. god was silly from the getgo, and i thank my parents for that. i truly disbelieve, or, more to the point, truly believe there is nothing like all that. never problematic, never fraught with holy consequence, never saught Answers. who wants answers when the Questions have such a better time? running around, drunk, into each other, bleeding, arguing, laughing, convulsing, changing species and direction?
i want to walk on water. i want to drink absenthe in paris and make declarations. i want debachery and beauty and cause and effect. this is My stuff. isn't it obvious we create in Our image?

so, what i really want is to walk through the wall, but i've started off with the water bottle. maybe water'll ease the process, even if osmosis is just a crutch. believe, believe, believe.

but what'd happen if i really believed? would i lose my concept of solidity and not be able to pick up the phone when it rings? then, would i fall through the five floors of this office building? keep on going? would i still believe in gravity? could i simply skip it all an immaterialize? think myself away, out of existance? would that be cool, or suck?

today i've been rolling around as a bag of water. it's not simple or depressing or fatalistic. it's romantic and adventagous. wicked sexy, way more so than some apple-eating succubus getting wrist-slapped for flaunting what she got. add four shots of this town's best espresso and ask me anything at all. see, it's these questions that fondle erogenously. answers are like little deaths. questions, yeah, go ahead and ask me. perhaps i'll ask you back.