Different Than The Bill Cower Power, But Just As Physically Demanding

My head feels like a swimming pool full of date rape spikes. At any moment a proponent of intelligent design could leap out from the shadows and try to skull fuck me into a coma. There may be some twisted plot waiting to be sprung upon me, but then again I may be underestimating the situation.

It's not all bad news though. I have fallen in love with something besides chocolate milk and the memory of stovepipe hats and jaunty strolls down the boardwalk. My affection is for several people, but that is all I can say without exposing myself to the fact that I may be some sort of a mortal after all. The surgery should take care of this, but for now I am what I am.

True fact: I have just spent two days with this particular journal entry safely nestled away in a Firefox tab between hyper-intense midget bestiality and a letter to grandma. The auto save function has expired and now sits besides chivalry in the hall of the passed. Auto save... you were cherished above all others. The grace you maintained during the spell check's tenure as flavor of the century was inspiring. I want to asphyxiate you with the smoochiest of kisses.

But you're now you're gone, until the time when I finally reset the page which approach is at such a painfully slow rate that one could equate it to being a stone slab of senior citizens being driven by an intoxicated sponge who failed it's driving test and lives in constant fear of being discovered by the bus company's thorough internal affairs division.

Holy hole punchers, I just snotted out a bogs worth of mucous and blood, all over my pancho. Whatever, ennui hour initiate.

Time Ran Out, So I Cut It Short

I have 8 minutes to try and remember the profound thought I was enjoying before I tripped over a weight, landed stomach first into the coffee table before vomiting trail mix on it. I have 8 minutes because I wasted the 10 minutes before. Now I am down to 5 minutes, I have wasted the following 3 wishing I had written the thoughts down. Down to 4, because I just realized my pen and paper are not where I left it. There is no reason to waste anymore time, so I shall write whatever comes to mind.

There are several people who I miss talking to a great deal, two of which are actual people. Talking to another person is one of those absolutely amazing things that people absolutely take for granted. Look at the moon, right now. If you can't then turn away in shame, but if you can do so and think to yourself, "How many conversations are taking place there?" I don't think the answer is too different when you look at Mercury or Mars.

In my eyes words are miracles, and the ability to wield them to talk about the glorious and the foolish is a gift too great to attribute to anything but the most wonderful of circumstances. Sometimes it takes me aback, truly, I feel almost weepy at the majesty of words. "Boy, that duck sure shit a lot of quarters into my coffee," is a sentence that I see as universally glorious, on too many levels to count.

Stars And Galaxies And Plague And The Word And

Right now, at the moment you read these words, the Andromeda galaxy lurches towards us with blood thirsty vengeance and unwavering murderous intent. Unfortunately for this cosmic maniac, it will not succeed in being what destroys us all.

In the sky above, at this very moment as you shake in fear of Andromeda's impending wrath, a gigantic ball of fire is toiling furiously in order to burn all that is in itself in order to collapse in on itself and destroy us all in a death so grand and spectacular it could be called a divine privilege to suffer it.

But as you and yours dig tirelessly into the ground where you shall build your sun shelter armed with anti-andromeda artillery weapons, there are corrupted thoughts and ideas, twisted memes and mental viruses that infect those with no immunity to notions so vile who plot against you now, who would seek to kill you now, who want all that you know to become lost in eternity, now.

Mental plague spreads as if welcomed by all. Billions strong it releases warm and fuzzy feelings inside the infected causing them to feel as if the thoughts they have are virtuous, right, correct or even coherent. This virus has no physical form that we can send antibiotics after, it is something we must develop countermeasures for within ourselves, lest we all become victims of wicked ideas and malicious intentions and blow each other to oblivion and beyond.

Get yourself tested, before you open your mouth and spread what makes you a fool to others.

MOVING ON LOL I wanted to put it down in writing that I have decided to take control of my destiny. I know now how I shall die barring an accident of some sort. I am going to commit suicide. Not now, I do not need an intervention, but when the time comes.

I must do so on a mountaintop, so that Andromeda will know that I will not be crushed by its malice, so that the sun will go wanting of my blood and corpse, and so that the worldwide mind plague will never have taken hold of my mind and dragged me into the pits of hell or worse, heaven.