Speaking Of Stamina, I've Just Run Out

Testing... Good, courier still works. I had worried that I dreamed it up. I'm glad I hadn't, it's a very pleasing and legitimate looking font, like a man in a suit who carries a gun, good in any situation.

Tonight I realized how much of a remarkable attention whore I can be. I spent time concocting a plot for a fantastic joke that fell through. Then I spent even more time trying to rig up an alternate joke that worked surprisingly well despite the great shame it brought upon my accomplice. I was given attention for my work. I was called and sought out by many people and a handful of unexpected things happened that pleased me, but what I desired from whom I desired it. I was left wanting.

There is always something to be learned from missteps. I will salvage the scraps from the field after the airplane exploded and I'll carry them to my shack on the mountain to make something out of malice.

Must work on stamina. All you must work on stamina, especially that me guy. That's good advice, but hardly any of you will take it, especially that me guy. But why not I wonder? It is good advice and has many practical opportunities for implementation; for instance, having more stamina is very useful to have when you are working on extending that stamina. It's also handy when disemboweling a hated foe, or surviving a grim ordeal like having to disembowel a hated foe because your hatred carries you on a blood soaked wind towards psychosis and things like butchering a person whom you dislike becomes rational in your chemically imbalanced mind.

I'm making a great many typos today, luckily I've got handy dandy backspace key. Truly, backspace is the key to fixing the past when you're finger ranting. Or would this be ranting? It's very unfocused stuff I'm working with here. There is no theme or thread with any of this and I am curious if something like this could be done and taken seriously. Aha, another typo attempt... there is something wrong with brain today. *Message from the brain* "Forgive my pretension, I usually do not refer to myself in the third person but as my vessel has already hinted, I am not working properly today. Surely this is my own fault, but rather than take the blame like a healthy brain would I am going to blame it on the vessel. I presume this based on the fact that without me the vessel is nothing."

Christ it's getting cloudy outside, I do hope it's going to storm, *Brain here, again. I would like to point out that I am aware that without the vessel I'd be little more than a watery ball of nothing. It does provide me with input and takes me places for more input, and input is of course what makes me an effective brain. But I've been so absent minded and scatter brained that it has effected the vessel in negative ways. We are not working together here, well, except when we are both working against everyone else. I will mull this over while "he" continues on with what will go down as another in a long succession of overdrawn, unread and inane ramblings.* I hope it does, I fucking love horrible weather.

I think I have said it before, long ago, that I was going to conduct experiments on myself. I cannot recall if I actually did, maybe that was the point of some of the experiments, so that I don't remember the horror of injecting myself with bizarre chemicals that left me an electrified lunatic, but I will assume that I have and when the time comes I will be able to call upon some violent power to destroy my soon to be disemboweled foes. Like I said before, I think I have said it, but I know I will say it again... in 3...2...1... It... fuck... FORGIVE MY APOSTASY GREAT MAGNET! I PRESUMED TO "KNOW" ANYTHING IN THIS UNKNOWABLE WORLD! HAVE MERCY ON MY MEAGER FORM AND MALFUNCTIONING BRAIN!

The shift key must be held when seeking the Great Magnet's forgiveness. It's a matter of respect you see. One must humble themselves before all things at one point, it's good for you. It's almost as good as working on your stamina.

A Sludge Murdering Fire Dance

Sludge in the brain is easier to get rid of with fire. It is for this reason that I have decided to light one under my feet. There is no downside to this approach. All that I need is given to me by the fire. This makes the fire good and I appreciate it's contribution to my life and the lives of others.

I didn't know my feet could move this fast until I endangered myself with lovely fire. It's beautiful so I never want to completely outrun it, but it's bite is bad enough to keep me from becoming comfortable with it.

Some people seek to tame fire, in places specifically installed into a house for that purpose. Fire does not want to be fed, it obliges only because it can only do what it can do. If you were to know the mind of the fire you would be haunted by it's immeasurable lust. It wants everything, it wants to grow, it wants to make the world it's own. But it has more ambition than ability and can be snuffed or suffocate without fuel or by cruel people and the rain.

Let fire burn. Let it flicker and dance and be happy. Let it feel that for even a brief moment that it has the potential to overtake humanity and rule over the Earth like it's father who watches over in the sky.

I will continue to use it for my purposes. I will attempt to live symbiotically with fire and take it's message to the depths of my heart and live like an inferno.

Several weeks have passed since I have burned
the shit

out of myself.

The skin doesn't sting anymore, and it doesn't do that sit there flat and smooth bullshit either. All in all I say the fire was good experience for me. I look forward to rekindling our relationship.

I Miss A Dark Skinned Man

There is a spinning sensation that starts with the inside of my head and threatens to twist me in circles before I have any inclination to correct myself. I've decided to let it run it's course and see where it takes me.

After several minutes of spinning I've found that relativity makes better points than just putting up with your in laws. I noticed that time seemed to slow down the faster I spun so up I went and began a session that entailed 43 minutes of constant spinning.

Vomit everywhere, but I do believe I've come across the secret to time travel. Here I come prom I never got the chance to ruin for everyone.

I've learned a new trick. I can now spin my eyes around in the sockets and take a look at my brain. It's still too dark to see anything well so I'm in the process of shoving lit q-tips into my ears.

So I'm deaf now, but to compensate, my sense of smell has intensified to the point to where I am now capable of sniffing out encroaching death on people. I have wandered the streets for days handing out pink slips to doomed people.

They read: "Dear Madam or Sir,

I regret to inform you that despite your spot on attendance record we have decided to go in another direction with your being alive. Please understand that this was not an easy choice, but for reasons I cannot get into you are being relocated to a cozy underground cubicle.

- Life"

Was On To Something There...

They sell jetpacks now. Hammerfucking JETPACKS! This should be a joyous occasion but I am now dwelling and becoming more and more horrified for humanity.

The reality is crushing my optimism.

Our brains have barely changed in 50,000 years but we're changing out world on nearly a monthly basis. I cannot get a clear reading on where we are headed with the information that I have. I want to believe that we are all capable of genuine altruism despite our circumstances. There are too many suffering people and they are everywhere, in every walk of life.

In another hundred or so years, depending on whether we will be gifted with advanced minds that speed up the rate of discovery, we may be upon the brink of immortality.

These are all sporadic thoughts I'm having and wanted to get down. Truth be known there is something wrong with my brain and I can't even remember which hand I write with. The middle one I believe.

The Almagest and A Nice Picture

In the beginning there was incomprehensible friction and heat.

It was savage galactic sex that launched the universe across the great nothingness. Fornication, intercourse, fucking on an immeasurable scale, beautiful and infinite began all that you know. You are made of intergalactic sex slop. And so am I.

I was here in the beginning with the others. We were all sentient eons before semi-intelligent civilization 4669 (you angry little battle apes) came to question all that is. Ours is the breath of the divine, beyond everything you and the stars could dream and yet we stand in awe ourselves of our parents that quite literally screwed us into this remote section of existence. My siblings and I, as well as everything in this universe, are all orphans. But, we have managed without parental guidance since the appropriately named "big bang."

Under Construction:

They Fuzzed Away On My Sleeve

I've been dreaming of a day when it makes sense to make sense, and even more cents are made from good sense. It's easy and cheap to be awful and destructive, you wouldn't believe the profit margins.

You know, it's been quite some time since we've endangered ourselves with some incredible advancement... where are the mad scientists with big horrible ideas? Chimeras and nuclear animals with unending blood lust should have been engineered years ago, but progress was halted soon after the killer bee. At one time in our history there was a manhunt for a radioactive pedophile... we need more of these things, spicy life things.

What we need is a constant flow of new and altered perspectives. We've become much too stale, much too homogenized and much too uninteresting for the planet to let us live for much longer. Soon she will beckon for the skies to launch cosmic volleys upon our lands. We should have listened to the devils on our shoulders and the beasts inside us that seek to wreak mischief and havoc in places where there is the most need for them. We're not machines, we are the result of an ongoing process that hopes to shape us into something greater than our minds have probed. Nobody seems to hear the cries coming from the place between madness and rationality. It is a lonely cry.

That cry is the kind that reminds you that throughout time hope has been snuffed out and that for some, dreams were killed or never chased at all. I am currently experiencing a reality shift. It's strange and terrible. If I were a lesser being I would cry. But I do not cry, I seek out the pain and I strangle it. I seek and destroy, rape and murder, violate and annihilate and rest assured that I am one of the good guys.