SCABs

Who Let The Chimp Out? By @lemacadesyeux

Zac Mehdid

By Zac Mehdid

 

Who Let The Chimp Out?

Yesterday, the amazing Mark Palmer taught us how to unleash our creativity. This is mine.

 

I know you’re probably sitting in front of your computer, on Facebook, reading the newspaper as I am standing yelling in front of Gerald the porch but really understand grossly what’s happening in Syria, Cluedo is in front of me where are you you might tell me, I am in the hostel, not so shitty hostel, interesting hostel, balcony and the light touching only the Chelsea flag going out of it, I wonder why Chelsea in a hippy hostel. Marc will probably not be really happy his pants are funny his bellybutton feels soft anyways what a weird thing to write right? Oh my god why do people keep wearing these shoes? These sandals that make you look like an American councilor returning to heaven by motorcycle I’m thinking of crepes alphabet and random words but no they’re not really random there should be an association in my head round round round couch sofa man walking through the door and Chelsea flag. Chelsea posh. Boring. Why don’t I think of weirder stuff? Penis. Horse. Don’t associate those two, that’s gross. You’re gross. Shut up chimp! Last week was fast, and I’m dining alone. I’m not really dining, and not really alone, but still well being and metamorphosis, I got some trouble spelling this one haha hahahahahahahaha map on the wall, dancing like a horse. Lots of horses in my head right now, I prefer them raw on a plate. They’re good! Raw horse tastes good, and I like how shocked people are when I tell them that. Like it was weird to eat horse. Why do you guys eat rabbit, that’s weird. Deer, that’s weird. Why would a horse be more edible than the others. A girl walks through the door. She has those sandals! But the fashionable ones. The better looking ones. My eye’s itching, I want to scratch it but I can’t stop writing this I need to free my mind of all these stupid thoughts so all these stupid thoughts a panda in a microphone, all people smelling all people farting put your hands up, I love singing, last time someone told me I’m always singing, no ‘m not, sometimes at school I feel like I can’t really be myself to be honest, although that’s the reason why I got into this school, to find a place where I can finally be myself. Did I find it? I’m not sure anymore. Maybe I should put pandas in a horse. Seriously? Horses again? I like you brain, but I don’t really get you sometimes, my phone is buzzing, someone’s talking to me about the car goose car goose that sounds cool it’s like a micropenis tied to a chair sent to heaven for Jesus, he deserves it, the poor bastard.

 

Well, I don’t really remember what I wrote, but it was an interesting experience. It felt good and liberating, but I still feel these huge concrete walls in my mind preventing me from letting real random thoughts – aka the chimp – out.

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