We need to be more outlandish, we're too safe

I think the Great said that. So outlandish? Party at my place?
Naw.
Too safe.
And stale.
I made these little tiny pita breads (how do you say that? because they weren't chips...) to take to a party tonight. It left me wondering, should I get large tortoise shell glasses and a cardigan with elbow patches and carry a book under my arm? Because I feel like looking like an absent minded professor might cover up or account for the fact that I kept finding flour dustings from the pita's on my sweater dress. I think I'm gonna go for it. Note to self: always go to a party with a book tucked under an arm. Ho! It could double as a little lap table!
Utter genius.
Until someone thinks I'm stealing their coffee table book at the end of the night.
That would be outlandish.
You know what is crazy? The title of this blog makes sense, it doesn't have some obscure meaning to just me, AND it directly correlates to this blog.
You're thinking joie de vivre.
I'm thinking torn curtain.
Where's my crypticosity and made up words?

Yes sir, run, run to your test sir
it will not wait for you
you may hurry until you are dead
but the test is always testing
until your spirit is flagged
and victory is void
forget the grade, dear sir
it will just spin you around
until, until, until, until
it was all better in my head
before I could join pen to paper
but testing doesn't care.

I had this phase last January of putting together words in different combinations because there were all of these potential possibilities that we were never using because they didn't make sense. Or they were redundant.
How did we decide that?