Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Where I'm Goin' ....

Sometimes I like to pop-off the plug from my thermostat. It makes no design sense of course -- if you were an engineer, why would you place an electrical socket next to a thermostat? That's just asking for trouble.

Of course, reality is not nearly as intelligent as my egoistic self-monologue, rendering me with a decision to either write more paragraphs of this crap, or watch interracial porn. Right now, interracial porn seems a little crass, so now we stop explaining ourselves. Or our self, if we are cute little kittens. Cute little puffy poofy white kittens. Meeting a big black domineering dog.

I switch off Windows Media Player, and begin to try to soak myself in the actual situation. A lot of people are around me at this point, and many are looking into what I do every second. They do this because I am their expressor. I express them. If I did not exist, they would not be expressed. This is why they are looming upon me now, like some haunting gaunt giants, reaching to me.

"Tell me how to be!" wails one, as I shirk away in horror.

"I'm just like you," I lie to them. "I also need instruction. These automatons have left us all astray, and now we must be reinstituted!"

The Others (yes, the Others), don't get what I am saying. This causes me to begin a calculation in my head about that discrepancy. Normally, in a fluidly and well told tale, you would find out in interspersion with cunning nuggets such as 'the main character's religion', or the 'political flaunts of his direction", why I am actually correct.

I ask myself why we couldn't try do it like the !kung. I am told by admins that such architecture still does not exist. "Fuck, Gods Must be Crazy was made in the fucking 70s, dude. Wtf?"

"Why do you want to do it like the !kung?"


"Why? What benefit does it give you?"

I looked at whoever the fuck that was with saucer-like eyes. "You know what that gives me?" I said, edging up to him.

He was trembling but kept the game up. "Wot? Wot in the possibility of -"

"A scent," I said.

"You sawr that in a fuckin' textbook. Aborigine armpit!"

But I was gone to that naysayer. "Ascent ... " I said again, and then again ... "A .. scent."

"Well then fuck you!" he screamed.

I sniffed.

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