A report from young November.

Again, I'll reiterate that Ohrobot is a man. I am a man who enjoys thinking about shish kebabs and warm, NYC pretzels at the corner of 42nd. and 8th. I wish I could recall the vendor's name. Every night... there I was, from no matter where I was, I'd be there waving money in a middle eastern guys face trying to buy his meat and flour. I'm sure it was the spice that kept me coming back... or was it the ritual?

I'm leaning towards the latter on that one. I say that because I'm prone to habit. Not only that, but I'm such a repeater that I end up repeating the most unrepeatable things you could imagine. Not so much words.. more like, situations. It's crazy. My heart is an ox.

Right now I'm sitting like the Land O' Lakes indian and instead of holding butter (ad overkill) I'm typing. I'm listening to Mazzy Star. Does that make me emo? Hell no.

I'm a man that likes walking around town alone. When I was young, I'd take a bunch of acid and walk through Macy's at 34th street during the busy hours. Coincidentally, every single hour that that store is open, it's a busy hour. Anyway, I'd walk in there, barely able to contain a smile. 1000 volts surging through me at the same time. I'd purposely bump into as many people as I could because with each impact came a supercharge of pure feeling.

It sounds hippy, but it's true. For me and for you.

I can't remember an actual number, but it is estimated that at least 64% of each week was spent playing human pinball bumper. I can't imagine their security team. They were so lame that they didn't notice the same guy coming in there all the time and never buying anything. Suckaz.

Since I'm sharing... I'm also the type of guy that'll put a slice of processed american cheese on a banana. Go ahead and snicker. Try it. Speaking of food... my days of being the guy that cooks his meat on the driveway because he has a vegan family are over. The windiness we've been getting out here could prove to be an enemy of a $5.00 mini-barbecue grill. That would be all I need. Now I am the guy that eats his food someplace else. It ain't cheap neither.

And did you know...

When I dream, I dream of fighting. All of the fucking time. It could be a dream where I'm using a silver studded brush to comb the wondrous mane of a golden unicorn and somehow, some way I end up fighting for my life or fighting for the lives of others. I must admit... I'm quite the Ninja at times. Though other times my hands are like Mickey Mouse hands and no matter how hard I swing, when they connect they're as soft as a cotton ball. So weird...

Lately I've been the carrier of a heavy heart. No particular reason... just the times and how they've come to be.

It's a messy staircase, this life. Watch your footing or you'll end up in a smash.
Isn't that great advice? Apply it toward anything and anyone!

Here is a common view for me...