A dear friend returned home today from a two month excursion into the future. When asked how it was, she replied: "Hot". Proceeding to stock up on ice and slurpees.
Ecstatic surprise is 5'8" in stature. Mild disappointment measures in at 6'9".
Day previous, had a long discussion concerning the evolution of Skynet, and the inevitable machine takeover, with none other than the leader of the human resistance himself. Bemusedly, said leader questioned the veritability of this blog's URL title, clearly looking far too deeply into this matter.
Shameless plug here for high stamina bloggers about to undertake a solar cycle of massive bandwidth usage. Visit silva rerum for details on the event, and how to support their dedication and charitable intentions. And no, this 5th dimension imp will not be partaking in the festivities. I value sleep too much.
Bored, once again browsing paracliques. Wet work anticipation grows in the tedious atmosphere of the dry analysis. Soon, soon, off with their heads!
Monday looks to be more than meets the eye. MI-BA-BLA-BA-SPLOSIONS!!!
Arrests were made to several thousand follicular criminals today. Eventually brought in on charges of refusing to cooperate with the law of gravity.
Saturday night TV shows suck. Really. Meantime, MSN is fucking up. All the while, Big Brother and his 7342MB of storage-space-per-user is watching. Frustration incites ideas of a Geldofian venture. In a world where superficiality is a lie that mirrors a lie, ignition can be a string of fancy lettering on a page somewhere. Go find it. Go ride the lightning.
Your turn.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Memento mori part 2.
"In a world filled with hate, we must still dare to hope. In a world filled with anger, we must still dare to comfort. In a world filled with despair, we must still dare to dream. And in a world filled with distrust, we must still dare to believe.”
RIP
Memento mori
Inspiration comes in the form of sand in a wetsuit. When in doubt, defer to the irritation running rampant along wet asscracks. Such a vivid memory pervades the consciousness here, sitting at work, browsing over paracliques, procrastinating with Elliot Minor in my ear, and blogspot under my fingertips.
Unsettling though it may be, the sensory remnants of that unpleasant experience shoot potent action potentials through to my cerebral cortex, managing to break through a wall of uninspired ideas, tearing it down, block by writer's block.
Previously trite ideas become fresh and appealing, previously cumbersome words come to type naturally. Realization sets in that nothing written here needs to make as much sense as it does in the mind from which it originates. This prose can be, and oftentimes will be (trust me), as irritatingly offensive and frustrating to readers as sand in a wetsuit (inspiration at its best).
For all the questionable vocabulary and atonal wit that will populate this page in the coming futures, there are no expectations that hordes and hordes of literary critics will be falling over themselves to fellate these musings. These are not the thoughts of a person intelligent in the ways of life, society or nature. This is the bored musing of an individual from whom you may illicit a strange and weird vibe. I contend the opposite: it is not the thoughts here that are weird and strange. Rather, these musings are perfectly normal, but it is the world around that is weird and creepy and unicorns.
So here, after years of deliberation and postponements, this blog is finally born. Born of sand in a wetsuit.
Insert thought here.
Unsettling though it may be, the sensory remnants of that unpleasant experience shoot potent action potentials through to my cerebral cortex, managing to break through a wall of uninspired ideas, tearing it down, block by writer's block.
Previously trite ideas become fresh and appealing, previously cumbersome words come to type naturally. Realization sets in that nothing written here needs to make as much sense as it does in the mind from which it originates. This prose can be, and oftentimes will be (trust me), as irritatingly offensive and frustrating to readers as sand in a wetsuit (inspiration at its best).
For all the questionable vocabulary and atonal wit that will populate this page in the coming futures, there are no expectations that hordes and hordes of literary critics will be falling over themselves to fellate these musings. These are not the thoughts of a person intelligent in the ways of life, society or nature. This is the bored musing of an individual from whom you may illicit a strange and weird vibe. I contend the opposite: it is not the thoughts here that are weird and strange. Rather, these musings are perfectly normal, but it is the world around that is weird and creepy and unicorns.
So here, after years of deliberation and postponements, this blog is finally born. Born of sand in a wetsuit.
Insert thought here.
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