Random thoughts and notes to myself...

The fat, corpulent bastards had eaten through my eyes, begun there and then on my brain. They were making quick work. Already I could feel my soul burning in its cocoon, dying to be set free, not wanting any of this destruction. I made sneaky-like to grab the nearest, sharpest thing and stab into my left palm, thereby releasing my soul and exorcising the evil spirits as they passed up through my left foot and on into my groin, but suddenly I saw the error of my ways. I had an erection, bulging against the seams of my pants. I was painfully aware of its presence, felt the blood rushing from my head to accomodate for the sudden engorging of my member. The pen fell from my hands, clattering on the floor.

My plans had failed; my thoughts betrayed me. I had thought these plans of escape, of freedom for my soul, and they were now reading my thoughts. Before long, I would be unable to control even those few unoriginal notions I had left. Soon, I would be nothing, automatron. By thinking I could defeat them so easily, I had inadvertenly walked into their trap.

I realized, in growing horror, that not even my soul would be able to escape, but would be emprisoned in this body, even after the flesh had begun to rot. I gathered the last of my strength and hurled myself against my captors, only to come up against my own skin. I was caught. Retreat was the only option; retreat into the center of my head where, with any luck, I could fend them off. At least for a little while.

Unfortunate side-effects...

There are, it seems, unfortunate side-effects to modern life. We drink and smoke and drink and work and smoke and work and drink ad nauseum. But another, more frightening and stomach-twisting, scrotum carving side-effect is the tendency to wax romantic, to totter on the edge of vulgarity, and suddenly descend... into medocrity.

If nothing can be done to save one's self from such a fate, then one has the moral obligation to end one's miserable existence. So let us eat cake and worship ourselves.

It beats the hell out of dyin'

Thought for the Day (TD): If we are not liberators, what then shall we be?

Stupid Thought for the Day (STD): Can you get fat from eating carrots (i.e. nothing special, no grease, no frying, no injections full of pig's blood, nothin'; just plain, ol' carrots)?

Tomorrow and tomorrow...

I...should have died hereafter. There is no if and or but about it. My death is the one, the one that ends the world. I feel this to be true. I may be who I pretend to be. I may live in a box with no corners, thinking myself wiser than I am, but...what am I? And before you ask yourself that same question, before I have a chance to ask the same...I know. I know.

Living In America

Life is good here. We love our freedoms, love those who love us and hate those who hate us. And when we die, we'll all, the whole damn country, go to fucking Heaven. All of us except for those damn fools who think we should apologize for killing the Indians, for destroying their way of life, ripping them brutaly from the womb of their mother.

And what did we do with the whore? We slit her from belly to throat and ripped out her heart, her lungs, her intestines (we had to know how she ticked, how she breathed, what she'd eaten) and when we were done there was only a carcass left; no soul.

Looking up, we saw her sweet sister in the sky and set there and then about building the largest, cruelest phallus we could inorder to take us there. And once there, we found the sister to be colder, more ghostly. Perhaps, there, staring out at the emptiness of space broken only momentarily with stars so far away, we saw the emptiness of our own souls.

These times...

These times require of us to steel ourselves against...ourselves. Thougts are but grenades lobbed into the eye of truth. So we grin and pull the pin, shake hell and sweat from our brow and toss. Seconds tick past, small eternities expiring in silence. BANG!!