6/3/13: Rain was indecisive last week. She or he or it couldn't make up their mind to stay and spray on everyone or leave. Then she or he or it regrets leaving and comes back for more. Meanwhile the sun is trying to purge all the clouds for the puff-less plays coming in June and July. It or she or he is not sure about August. They prefer no questions asked at this time, only for past events only.
6/4/13: Engine roars at seven in morning. The summer has been deployed.
6/16/13: Sitting in his car with cool air blasting and bouncing in the car, he follows the ritual to look at a semi-controlled wilderness creek. There's no intention behind looking at the view, and perhaps that may be the point, without a tip. He looks at his watch. Five minutes have passed. He wished it was a partial half-hour. He goes to sleep and listens for cars crawling on top of the gravel. Five minutes have passed. He wakes up and thought he heard something, but it was nothing. It isn't until he turns the car ignition and drives away from the wilderness creek that he spots another on the road heading towards the creek. Even with his windows rolled up, he can hear the dub-step tunes and high pitch laughter. The other car pulls up to the creek. He wants to turn around, but he missed his chance and drives to any place he can consider.
6/17/13: A hermit decides to move back to the city, right after the rocks are removed on the forgotten road.
6/19/13: He hears a loud thud with a crack. A chunk of cement has fallen from the abandoned complex. After circling around the ruin, finding no paint marks, he deems the place as a holy site. He speaks to the building what he must seek and finds a chair on the side, but he doesn't know what it means....
6/21/13: Why should a knocked-down chair be any of his concerns? He knows the answer. His cell-phone vibrates in his pocket. The call for work. He thought of chucking it out of the building. He reconsiders. The third exploration through the levels continues. He finds old steel bars, showing rust on the tips. It's deemed as a worthy weapon after one wide swing. Upon the top floor, he looks out to the city. The modern structures stand in the middle while older generations push out to the edges of clustered civilization. To the view opposite to the city, he finds a few other ruins holding voice other than birds. Beyond the ruins, a flat, cracked cement land is all that remains. He decides to stay as the sky darkens.
6/23/13: The pain's sting in the head soothes him. His mind can't construct simple paragraphs. Degeneration is in progress.
6/26/13: I hear my brother speak off his practical mouth, urging me to snip off my lens of illusion illustration. I listen and comply to his mouth of facts. How the world is viewed beyond mine or his judgment. Do not deny the laws that operate time and space. Yet my lens of illusion may leap closer laws of facts beyond his mind.
Monday, June 3, 2013
Monday, April 1, 2013
April 2013
4/1/13: You ever wonder if the sky would pull a joke on you?
4/3/13: Dozens of lab coats walk around the top of the boiling machine or their eyes are glued to the screen, with a finger following which ingredient to use next. One comes in with a heavy sack of carbon, but another tells the carrier to stop, not yet, said the another. The screen-reader shouts out for water. One pours, two others keep their distance at about an inch. Then the lime is poured, then phosphorus, nitrogen. More elements mix until they seal the top to let it cook. Wire ports link onto the side of the head. Not yet, said another. They wait for six hours then they got impatient and link it up anyway. The baking timer rings through the lab. The sarcophagus opens a body pulls out, the body walks like a chicken to the window. Damn it, said another. Next time to patient, someone said, but no one knows.
4/12/13: Mouths move, sounds carve invisible lines to form words, all happy, all smiley, all pointless. Well, from a point of view. Upon receiving, my ears change the lines to broken apart, mush and error is all I hear. If I speak, the smileys wouldn't call my words mush. If they hear audio outside their they respond with, "oh that's nice." Their illusionist perception continues to claim more territory, ensnaring themselves, while I wait for the bigger delusion of the world crawl into their territory.
4/21/13: We think, but some people don't want to think. They think thinking will bring complications with their limiting lives. Why bring in more complexes? It's not who I am which I think I can't be, but I don't think I've tried to be what I think I might be. Now I want to know what my great-primal grandfather might be, and ask his flesh if I'm capable of what he was and more. I think I can be much more than before.
4/22/13: The rooms get smaller as I grow in mass and sound. Words bound within the walls sing restriction and play with strings. I cut the strings, but the wall's voice heals the string, entangling my soul.
4/3/13: Dozens of lab coats walk around the top of the boiling machine or their eyes are glued to the screen, with a finger following which ingredient to use next. One comes in with a heavy sack of carbon, but another tells the carrier to stop, not yet, said the another. The screen-reader shouts out for water. One pours, two others keep their distance at about an inch. Then the lime is poured, then phosphorus, nitrogen. More elements mix until they seal the top to let it cook. Wire ports link onto the side of the head. Not yet, said another. They wait for six hours then they got impatient and link it up anyway. The baking timer rings through the lab. The sarcophagus opens a body pulls out, the body walks like a chicken to the window. Damn it, said another. Next time to patient, someone said, but no one knows.
4/12/13: Mouths move, sounds carve invisible lines to form words, all happy, all smiley, all pointless. Well, from a point of view. Upon receiving, my ears change the lines to broken apart, mush and error is all I hear. If I speak, the smileys wouldn't call my words mush. If they hear audio outside their they respond with, "oh that's nice." Their illusionist perception continues to claim more territory, ensnaring themselves, while I wait for the bigger delusion of the world crawl into their territory.
4/21/13: We think, but some people don't want to think. They think thinking will bring complications with their limiting lives. Why bring in more complexes? It's not who I am which I think I can't be, but I don't think I've tried to be what I think I might be. Now I want to know what my great-primal grandfather might be, and ask his flesh if I'm capable of what he was and more. I think I can be much more than before.
4/22/13: The rooms get smaller as I grow in mass and sound. Words bound within the walls sing restriction and play with strings. I cut the strings, but the wall's voice heals the string, entangling my soul.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Finding March
3/4/13: Spring is coming back, though it seems to now go into the reverse direction. I try to help, but like everyone who speaks, I don't know how to speak wind or climate. The cold returns, and back into the house I go...........Are we warm yet?
3/5/13: Stiff and ache down the stairs I make. Seek and take the food I eat.
3/6/13: Limits have an illusion most will forget. They see a narrow fragile line and try to keep it stable. But they think if the line breaks they can reset their limit. Pour more will and energy again and again. A limit is one focus of the day so that you can focus elsewhere latter.
3/8/13: Energy fills in on the keystone, pushing it slowly down on until it forms a mark. No meaning exists until it comes in view of the eye. It wants to make meaning, the mark doesn't respond. Oddity grows as time moves forward, more marks are left, but they still don't mean anything. The energy within tears its container until it kills itself.
3/11/13: Distortion comes when time is missing. Your eyes can't see the motion. It when happens when you're not there. The plane merges in another illusion. Reality's mantle takes a shift from political roots. Popping up behind your leg. Waiting to entangle your life.
3/20/13: The will of the different erodes on my shores. They accept demands of the common mass. More fat is added to the food they make. They allow the mass ignorance to flourish their support. I would put up a wall to make the different stand out. The masses come to drown my will. I don't let it go. The mass crumble my words.
3/21/13: The sky would have kept you still of motion, but exposed by the eyes of your puppet master.
3/22/13: Many doubt or don't doubt an unknown god controlling us. I do know we are following that philosophy. I'm utilizing the tool right now. Shocking I know.....well not really.
3/25/13: Light gets us back to work. We smell the air, swing our arms with synchronized legs. Birds smile as they sing. We want to say they are smiling. How could you not smile on a sunny day? What were those images on the screen telling you otherwise?
3/26/13: I know my place, I know what to do. I heard your news, I've seen your hands documenting the motions. I don't why you say it five times, I don't know why tune up your pitch. I tell you to shut up, I make you stop. I fear one day your voice will be tangled in my brain, I fear one day you'll control me forever until Armageddon.
3/30/13: The energy flowing through time can do errors to a flow of my energy. The aching eyes, late rises, and duty nagging in your head tells it all.
3/31/13: The bunny comes, full of chocolate eggs, and eggs full of vinegar. The cute watches us oblivious. I wouldn't mind if the bunny could speak.
3/5/13: Stiff and ache down the stairs I make. Seek and take the food I eat.
3/6/13: Limits have an illusion most will forget. They see a narrow fragile line and try to keep it stable. But they think if the line breaks they can reset their limit. Pour more will and energy again and again. A limit is one focus of the day so that you can focus elsewhere latter.
3/8/13: Energy fills in on the keystone, pushing it slowly down on until it forms a mark. No meaning exists until it comes in view of the eye. It wants to make meaning, the mark doesn't respond. Oddity grows as time moves forward, more marks are left, but they still don't mean anything. The energy within tears its container until it kills itself.
3/11/13: Distortion comes when time is missing. Your eyes can't see the motion. It when happens when you're not there. The plane merges in another illusion. Reality's mantle takes a shift from political roots. Popping up behind your leg. Waiting to entangle your life.
3/20/13: The will of the different erodes on my shores. They accept demands of the common mass. More fat is added to the food they make. They allow the mass ignorance to flourish their support. I would put up a wall to make the different stand out. The masses come to drown my will. I don't let it go. The mass crumble my words.
3/21/13: The sky would have kept you still of motion, but exposed by the eyes of your puppet master.
3/22/13: Many doubt or don't doubt an unknown god controlling us. I do know we are following that philosophy. I'm utilizing the tool right now. Shocking I know.....well not really.
3/25/13: Light gets us back to work. We smell the air, swing our arms with synchronized legs. Birds smile as they sing. We want to say they are smiling. How could you not smile on a sunny day? What were those images on the screen telling you otherwise?
3/26/13: I know my place, I know what to do. I heard your news, I've seen your hands documenting the motions. I don't why you say it five times, I don't know why tune up your pitch. I tell you to shut up, I make you stop. I fear one day your voice will be tangled in my brain, I fear one day you'll control me forever until Armageddon.
3/30/13: The energy flowing through time can do errors to a flow of my energy. The aching eyes, late rises, and duty nagging in your head tells it all.
3/31/13: The bunny comes, full of chocolate eggs, and eggs full of vinegar. The cute watches us oblivious. I wouldn't mind if the bunny could speak.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Febuary 2013
2/1/13: February is here, hazah. Now, can anyone tell me where the sarcasm was in this comment.
2/3/13: Pulling the popcorn bag, I darken the room, turn on the T.V. Watching commercials and waiting for the movie that'll never come.
2/4/13: I come home, sleep, rise, eat, eat, eat, look outside, pet the cat, brush, pet the cat, sit, sit, sit, sit, ponder, write, fiddle,........eat.........................................................................
2/5/13: I'm ready, silent breaths, back straight, don't red up. I'm close getting close. Get the resume ready, ask for the boss, make sure time is right, time is not right. Buy small food, put away food, time is right, front door locked,............................................................., pull the door,.......pull the door, don't knock, where should I knock,..........put resume through mail slot, walk away, don't be seen, now whisper a curse on yourself.
2/6/13: Evidence of memories of old convince me to relive them. I reenact the experience with current commentary, but it feels dry and empty. I want to go back to the present life, and I don't I'm still stuck in the past.
2/7/13: I see the order in universal form. Systematic, every action a purpose, one way only, no room for error. I fear because there is only one truth and one way. A slip means I must be broken. The chaos is ravage, gentle, blunt, and expressing different directions. I feel warm, but will not let it consume me. I feel lost and home, but there are too many directions to take. I wish to hold order, I will follow no matter what burdens are given to me.
2/8/13: ................................................................yawn.....................................................................................................
2/10/13: When the first scene brings life to your hands, you stop to find the right note, you stop because you just missed the right note and look again, you stop to remember what was the right note based on the first note, you stop to measure two notes and can't identify the key, you stop because its become easy and you seek murk notes, you stop when you squish with your hands.
2/11/13: There is always the choice to leave elements of life behind to refine better elements. To refine, someone says it's hinders your true capabilities, but you have a goal. A goal to become better than before, better and be at peace of becoming better, feeling more relaxed that this is your life. Refinement doesn't bend, it strengthens. The steel shines better, and cuts through troubles with focus the body has caught up with the mind.
2/24/13: I return and no one has the decency to have fan questions? No illustration of illusion images with me anchoring around the center? No performing chants without my image in ribbon rich frames? I don't mind feeling safe, being respected of my private life, or mediate on the next writing tale when absent. Thank you to all who don't feel drama between the gaps of writing. You don't have to understand to really understand what I'm trying to imply. I really just to say hello again to all and hope you all have a laugh. To those who read in a glance, I thank you to acknowledge my existence.....or being completely confused. At this point, I would be too. Just say "hello," and I'll tell you its a rainy day.
2/25/13: That damn wind came back, bullying my windows, roughing them up. I'd rather just get a huge big pipe to suck up the wind and give me power to spoil myself................crap, I'm being boiling lunacy. Fage(fear + rage) will do that to you....................but I'm normal now, because I said it.
2/3/13: Pulling the popcorn bag, I darken the room, turn on the T.V. Watching commercials and waiting for the movie that'll never come.
2/4/13: I come home, sleep, rise, eat, eat, eat, look outside, pet the cat, brush, pet the cat, sit, sit, sit, sit, ponder, write, fiddle,........eat.........................................................................
2/5/13: I'm ready, silent breaths, back straight, don't red up. I'm close getting close. Get the resume ready, ask for the boss, make sure time is right, time is not right. Buy small food, put away food, time is right, front door locked,............................................................., pull the door,.......pull the door, don't knock, where should I knock,..........put resume through mail slot, walk away, don't be seen, now whisper a curse on yourself.
2/6/13: Evidence of memories of old convince me to relive them. I reenact the experience with current commentary, but it feels dry and empty. I want to go back to the present life, and I don't I'm still stuck in the past.
2/7/13: I see the order in universal form. Systematic, every action a purpose, one way only, no room for error. I fear because there is only one truth and one way. A slip means I must be broken. The chaos is ravage, gentle, blunt, and expressing different directions. I feel warm, but will not let it consume me. I feel lost and home, but there are too many directions to take. I wish to hold order, I will follow no matter what burdens are given to me.
2/8/13: ................................................................yawn.....................................................................................................
2/10/13: When the first scene brings life to your hands, you stop to find the right note, you stop because you just missed the right note and look again, you stop to remember what was the right note based on the first note, you stop to measure two notes and can't identify the key, you stop because its become easy and you seek murk notes, you stop when you squish with your hands.
2/11/13: There is always the choice to leave elements of life behind to refine better elements. To refine, someone says it's hinders your true capabilities, but you have a goal. A goal to become better than before, better and be at peace of becoming better, feeling more relaxed that this is your life. Refinement doesn't bend, it strengthens. The steel shines better, and cuts through troubles with focus the body has caught up with the mind.
2/24/13: I return and no one has the decency to have fan questions? No illustration of illusion images with me anchoring around the center? No performing chants without my image in ribbon rich frames? I don't mind feeling safe, being respected of my private life, or mediate on the next writing tale when absent. Thank you to all who don't feel drama between the gaps of writing. You don't have to understand to really understand what I'm trying to imply. I really just to say hello again to all and hope you all have a laugh. To those who read in a glance, I thank you to acknowledge my existence.....or being completely confused. At this point, I would be too. Just say "hello," and I'll tell you its a rainy day.
2/25/13: That damn wind came back, bullying my windows, roughing them up. I'd rather just get a huge big pipe to suck up the wind and give me power to spoil myself................crap, I'm being boiling lunacy. Fage(fear + rage) will do that to you....................but I'm normal now, because I said it.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
January 2013
Jan 3, 2013: The birth of a new year comes in as a whimper of the sand of the second. The Earth continues to rotate in the night where color fades in the to a pitch black. The new year means the winter holidays are over and I'll have to go to work with a pressured resolution that I'll do better than before, not knowing that resolve is a silent act with no words.
Jan 5,2013: I read and write to they will fill my life. I slash and write words into existence. Shoes are bought as signs of my grad status, and a stack of books from George R. R. Martin come into possession after recommendation of a brother, hooked by HBO's counterpart. These do not calm my heart, when the mantle adult life comes. I hope my knowledge, skills, and readings will find a path, but I can't find one. The demand for signs of being an adult grows. I don't want to those who watch me to close their eyes and remain ever closed to doubt and shame. Yet here I am, writing, to keep my strokes sharp to a electric mirror full a silent chattering.
Jan 6, 2013: I rise as the sun shines, despite the dark gloom clouds that loom over my eyes, but the sun will always let you its day, to make me move with heat instead of cold when I sleep. The gloom is only an illusion because the light is still here until it decides to give a rest.
Jan 7, 2013: The next step of an unknown perception is never comforting, and should never be. For how your expectations be shattered if you are already in comfort? The comfort is rigid, predictable to your arbitrary natural life. If it helps you to keep a bit of anger to gently push you forward, than kick with your feet. I type this, but I don't know where to go.
Jan 8, 2013: I wake and read a page of twenty or in thirty minutes so that I someday may read a page of twenty in twenty, and that accomplishes more in the long run. I type to type more and I hope to become legend of letter keys. Still I would rather rise in a happy life rather than view in a lens of spoken dagger words.
Jan 9, 2013: The weather is getting better at least. At least I'm seeing pockets of the blue sky.
Jan 10, 2013: I sometimes wonder as I look into distance, across a hill, a lake, and slopes of a second hill, a house with mud road and distinct field. Can I see tiny stick figures of people if they come out of the house? Playing in the snow? Can I see the snow angel or snowman they make? I bet if they could see me, a young man walking across a road of cars moving at impatient speed. To them I might just be a blur or pixel not appearing even close of being a human.
Jan 11, 2013: The Friday has come and it feels to be the true Saturday. The energy of work is left to be used for fun, but when I wake up the next morning. The energy will be gone, or what's left of it will burn out completely.
Jan 12, 2013: My fingers now press the keyboard as I continue to write more and more. I now wait for work to come where I must keep pressing these keys to tell my stories, give a review, your communicate how everyone can understand when a segment of their path is lost, but this will come through the voice of technical, or blocks aiming towards inspiration. Though I will always wish to leave these keys so I can go and find all sources from the outside world.
Jan 14, 2013: Faint flakes of snow fall down from the sky for a small ten minutes. Lying to me that it would snow ten days and make all setting to become sacred and forgotten. The sounds isolate itself when it snows first day, amplifying the yearning for the land to be a sacred place. For some reason, the world becomes sacred only when snow lands.
Jan 15, 2013: They say some neighborhoods are nice places to live. Today I walk in my neighborhood, considered nice, and it appears more as an abandoned settlement. I wonder if silence is mistaken for nice.
Jan 16, 2013: Adventure comes to me as an excuse for an activity. Keeping up my spirit I say. The frost on roofs says: why don't you rest for a little longer. I don't want to, yet I do. Its the holiday break, devious cheery runt, it took all my energy when it left, and now I have none. Energy becomes an excuse motion or lack of motion. Maybe I'll lean on caffeine for now. I know everyone else does.
Jan 20, 2013: The fog flows through our neighbor streets like a flying river, burying our existence to the outside world. Many would soon leave for those who do not know what they see. Explorers pass the line of the known to discover what is forgotten or not seen. Our life within the fog brings continues, swimming as we are walking and lend out our hand to outsiders who are rewarded for poking into the unknown.
Jan 21, 2013: The pushing of typing keys sounds like construction until I read that I wrote "foghtjehngthdhfdhfthdjfhsad." Now how am I going to make sense of that? I hope you don't have an answer.
Jan 22, 2013: The days go by and I wonder what exactly am I writing about. At first the idea seems great, but as I explore, the world I just created becomes very empty and void of thought looms over. I flee back to the real, where I'm full of response of what comes next. I wonder how gods feel or what their gods feel.
Jan 24, 2013: Thumping squirrels on wooden platforms squeak and poop when a mechanical Popcorn Sentinel flies out from their tiny insulation tunnels they made in my house. With a beam of white light, the Popcorn sucks up all the squirrels.....and their poop before moving outside. It shoots them into a tree before placing a barrier placing a liquid of molten metal. It returns back to the crow nest on the top of my roof and plugs itself into the charger for tomorrow's inspection. I don't see the Popcorn and carpenters tell me I never will.
Jan 26, 2013: Memory Alter in the attic, dust and shingle dust fly up and lay all over evidence of my past. Toys I find that were never open, sealed and clean. Toys that were pulled up long ago were scattered in multiple boxes. I reassemble the mess and make sure they'll be ready to pass on to the next nerd who gollums overs a used 1995 x-wing from Kenner company. When I hold it again, I might just want to stay up in the attic and feed off the squirrels who come in my lair. Fortunately, the real world echoes below and I leave the crumbling shrine behind.
Jan 28,2013: Around the gathering radio, the Marshmallow tale of the destined children was being told. It began when a doctor was concerned with the nature of destinies anchored to all living beings. Children of young were gathered and tested of their will power. Those who first resisted eating the sugar treat in front of them were rewarded with an additional treat. The surviving contestants were seen later to do great achievements. I hear this glowing audio and wonder if the science of chaos still exists.
Jan 29,2013: Mothers gather, they probably have taken some drug to relax their nerves, I always hear that laughing. You would never hear that laugh if it was a majority of man. That laugh sounds like cheering at a party, trying to be hip, but in style. Their battle cry, "Bunco!" leads them into a feeding frenzy. I only come down to find the remains pound cake, chips, Baileys, and decaf coffee. At least they leave a pleasant aroma.
Jan 31, 2013: Days of gloom still continue. We receive no word from the sun. Our own sources of happiness dwindle at empty. I see a dozen walk with active bodies, but dead souls. Though there are those who seem happy, laughing in an odd manner, causing pain through pranks and coming out of houses with a full bag. Others smile whenever they smell of piss and act luppy. Few giggle for hours when they smell like a shunk. They smile, but I can't seem to smile when I see them.
Jan 5,2013: I read and write to they will fill my life. I slash and write words into existence. Shoes are bought as signs of my grad status, and a stack of books from George R. R. Martin come into possession after recommendation of a brother, hooked by HBO's counterpart. These do not calm my heart, when the mantle adult life comes. I hope my knowledge, skills, and readings will find a path, but I can't find one. The demand for signs of being an adult grows. I don't want to those who watch me to close their eyes and remain ever closed to doubt and shame. Yet here I am, writing, to keep my strokes sharp to a electric mirror full a silent chattering.
Jan 6, 2013: I rise as the sun shines, despite the dark gloom clouds that loom over my eyes, but the sun will always let you its day, to make me move with heat instead of cold when I sleep. The gloom is only an illusion because the light is still here until it decides to give a rest.
Jan 7, 2013: The next step of an unknown perception is never comforting, and should never be. For how your expectations be shattered if you are already in comfort? The comfort is rigid, predictable to your arbitrary natural life. If it helps you to keep a bit of anger to gently push you forward, than kick with your feet. I type this, but I don't know where to go.
Jan 8, 2013: I wake and read a page of twenty or in thirty minutes so that I someday may read a page of twenty in twenty, and that accomplishes more in the long run. I type to type more and I hope to become legend of letter keys. Still I would rather rise in a happy life rather than view in a lens of spoken dagger words.
Jan 9, 2013: The weather is getting better at least. At least I'm seeing pockets of the blue sky.
Jan 10, 2013: I sometimes wonder as I look into distance, across a hill, a lake, and slopes of a second hill, a house with mud road and distinct field. Can I see tiny stick figures of people if they come out of the house? Playing in the snow? Can I see the snow angel or snowman they make? I bet if they could see me, a young man walking across a road of cars moving at impatient speed. To them I might just be a blur or pixel not appearing even close of being a human.
Jan 11, 2013: The Friday has come and it feels to be the true Saturday. The energy of work is left to be used for fun, but when I wake up the next morning. The energy will be gone, or what's left of it will burn out completely.
Jan 12, 2013: My fingers now press the keyboard as I continue to write more and more. I now wait for work to come where I must keep pressing these keys to tell my stories, give a review, your communicate how everyone can understand when a segment of their path is lost, but this will come through the voice of technical, or blocks aiming towards inspiration. Though I will always wish to leave these keys so I can go and find all sources from the outside world.
Jan 14, 2013: Faint flakes of snow fall down from the sky for a small ten minutes. Lying to me that it would snow ten days and make all setting to become sacred and forgotten. The sounds isolate itself when it snows first day, amplifying the yearning for the land to be a sacred place. For some reason, the world becomes sacred only when snow lands.
Jan 15, 2013: They say some neighborhoods are nice places to live. Today I walk in my neighborhood, considered nice, and it appears more as an abandoned settlement. I wonder if silence is mistaken for nice.
Jan 16, 2013: Adventure comes to me as an excuse for an activity. Keeping up my spirit I say. The frost on roofs says: why don't you rest for a little longer. I don't want to, yet I do. Its the holiday break, devious cheery runt, it took all my energy when it left, and now I have none. Energy becomes an excuse motion or lack of motion. Maybe I'll lean on caffeine for now. I know everyone else does.
Jan 20, 2013: The fog flows through our neighbor streets like a flying river, burying our existence to the outside world. Many would soon leave for those who do not know what they see. Explorers pass the line of the known to discover what is forgotten or not seen. Our life within the fog brings continues, swimming as we are walking and lend out our hand to outsiders who are rewarded for poking into the unknown.
Jan 21, 2013: The pushing of typing keys sounds like construction until I read that I wrote "foghtjehngthdhfdhfthdjfhsad." Now how am I going to make sense of that? I hope you don't have an answer.
Jan 22, 2013: The days go by and I wonder what exactly am I writing about. At first the idea seems great, but as I explore, the world I just created becomes very empty and void of thought looms over. I flee back to the real, where I'm full of response of what comes next. I wonder how gods feel or what their gods feel.
Jan 24, 2013: Thumping squirrels on wooden platforms squeak and poop when a mechanical Popcorn Sentinel flies out from their tiny insulation tunnels they made in my house. With a beam of white light, the Popcorn sucks up all the squirrels.....and their poop before moving outside. It shoots them into a tree before placing a barrier placing a liquid of molten metal. It returns back to the crow nest on the top of my roof and plugs itself into the charger for tomorrow's inspection. I don't see the Popcorn and carpenters tell me I never will.
Jan 26, 2013: Memory Alter in the attic, dust and shingle dust fly up and lay all over evidence of my past. Toys I find that were never open, sealed and clean. Toys that were pulled up long ago were scattered in multiple boxes. I reassemble the mess and make sure they'll be ready to pass on to the next nerd who gollums overs a used 1995 x-wing from Kenner company. When I hold it again, I might just want to stay up in the attic and feed off the squirrels who come in my lair. Fortunately, the real world echoes below and I leave the crumbling shrine behind.
Jan 28,2013: Around the gathering radio, the Marshmallow tale of the destined children was being told. It began when a doctor was concerned with the nature of destinies anchored to all living beings. Children of young were gathered and tested of their will power. Those who first resisted eating the sugar treat in front of them were rewarded with an additional treat. The surviving contestants were seen later to do great achievements. I hear this glowing audio and wonder if the science of chaos still exists.
Jan 29,2013: Mothers gather, they probably have taken some drug to relax their nerves, I always hear that laughing. You would never hear that laugh if it was a majority of man. That laugh sounds like cheering at a party, trying to be hip, but in style. Their battle cry, "Bunco!" leads them into a feeding frenzy. I only come down to find the remains pound cake, chips, Baileys, and decaf coffee. At least they leave a pleasant aroma.
Jan 31, 2013: Days of gloom still continue. We receive no word from the sun. Our own sources of happiness dwindle at empty. I see a dozen walk with active bodies, but dead souls. Though there are those who seem happy, laughing in an odd manner, causing pain through pranks and coming out of houses with a full bag. Others smile whenever they smell of piss and act luppy. Few giggle for hours when they smell like a shunk. They smile, but I can't seem to smile when I see them.
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