Dada written at Bigby's Coffee, the first SCHWA meeting there. Lisa attended.
NOTE: Some foul language is used in most of my dada. If you don't get what dada is, ask me, I'll explain it.
Incompetent equations that I cannot comprehend. Unstable microns of a thousand lives, circles unspinning, the universe left unnamed riding on a carousel labeled "DARK". Blatantly stolen pens, a thousand places form a thousand small stories, none of which remain in memory. Thirteen thousand signs, phase thru walls. 13,463,799,996,724,370. Pumpkin spiced latte, with cash to spare. The secret of life, spoiled, foul, something happened to the equation. Science can lead to religion, you want proof? Every secret name, all places can be extricated from the mind.
There is no circle, it's a fucking moebius strip.
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