Post-Cathartic, A Few Minutes Past

Phew.

Neon Chords Right?

I am the fortune teller who is always wrong. I am the reluctant participant. I am the broken-hearted observer. I am something sappy that wants to be cute? Hahaha. I am something else? I am a believer. I am a believer in nothing. I am the sore. I am the emptiness. I am just playing right?

Just words? Just communicated ideas? Just symbols? Just representations?

I am a fart. I just farted.

I breathe in and I am real. I breathe out and I am extinction.

You could scratch something that doesn't itch. It's not impossible.

We are so arrogant. Soon it's animals who come to resemble us.

How do you live in this muck? Someone should ask me. I wouldn't have an answer.

Weird is insane to some. Embarrassing. They are embarrassed. Embarrassed someone might make a scene.

Am I untying the knots with this ramble? Or just tying up new ones? Letting the poison out? Letting more in? Questions without answers? Answers without certainty?

Well I certainly feel better. Do you?

Tilting the Shard to See Behind You

Have you ever gotten the feeling that you are seeing yourself from another person's eyes? And that person is not even present?

Have you ever seen yourself from eyes that are not your own?

Sometimes

Sometimes the things you are watching on a show or a movie manage to climb out of the screen and stand there glowing on the living room floor.

These things are loud and scary like thunder or a rolling tank.

It's not much to be surprised about though, since media is really just an extension of the reality we perceive.

With Every Breath

And my mind took on the properties of a sponge: a starving, dehydrated sponge, and so I sucked in as much information as I could possibly hold and I held it all in until I started to crack and burst at the points of stress, and I became completely hydrated and bloated. Finally, a night's sleep should release the weight and have it rush back into the space it came from. And I should be free to take in more...later on.

This rhythmic catch and release of masses of information is almost pleasurable to the senses.

And I realize once again that this life is worth living.

Excite Me

There is a storm coming tomorrow my friends.

Zombies will walk the earth. Malls will never be safe again.

And it will be good. And fun.

Collector's Mug

For those wondering: In recent events, my face has been horrifically disfugured and made to resemble a white void with what looks like text that reads: "This image or video has been moved or deleted". In an odd turn of events, some have reported that the trademark "Photobucket" text can also be seen somewhere in the wreckage.

I am considering plastic surgery, and no longer look down on the practice.