The 'What Else' That One Can Write

You have arrived to me at a time when I am contemplating and trying to unravel a long, long history of abuse. To the psyche, and the self. There are rooms, my friend, padded to the brim and filled with all sorts of peepulls. Allsorts. Exploding at the seams. And blood, and violence. Splat. It sounds like 'splat'.

I speak to you through these shards of teeth and from that tangy, rattling taste of blood you and I know well. So dynamic is life that we could be speaking of a bonafide bistec escabeche and a banana float, and we could even relocate psychically to a space where there are other people giving boisterous and enriching chatter, and hot girls strolling by once in a while for you and I to comment. Yet we choose to remain in this festering pontoon of crap. So please excuse the fucking vitriol, ok?

I'm catching the frays, these broken seams who land around me in so many colors. During this process, there are thoughts attacking one's personal integrity, there are whirling facades of 'self', and one's fingers just snap off upon cement. One two three ... through ten. Then you thank your blessed mother or father's genes for giving you extra.

When they land, I run to each one and greet them with glee. These are all aliens, and each one has this immense, colorful story for me. Imagine, the seclusion of inhabiting a capsule for nine million years, one's only 'hope' (as one bursts through space and various ozones) being the possibility to reach a sentient destination. Not even zen monks would purport that journey. So, I always go to greet them, like an excited little puppy, whenever they do land around me.

We cannot go into the tales of every single one right now, but if you hang out with me, I promise to try to inveigle some for their nectar. They are all so sweet, you know.

Apt

Reference to geographic landmark
cunningly interpolated with some kind of
human expression, to illustrate how human
that experience of geographic landmark
was.

Photo. Moment.

Talk, in a rambling sense,
about fields with stalks.
Add limbs to ad lib.

Smell, and hear, don't just see.
Growl, and slur, don't just speak.
Sea'll sell she shells,
can't fuck deaf girls
unless they can hear you

in their bellies. Yes, guess i'm that cheap. (sorry deafies)

Nothing is really so fascinating that you need to get wound up about it, although, damn, now you've gotten all wound up about it, might as well try get fascinated.

We, you and i, were born to drink clean water while children choke, somewhere.

I am not autustic, I am just an asshole.

Such an asshole I could not even spell check-autistic in titling my work.
--

Nothing is really very important to me, but goal-oriented individuals must understand that this is by careful design rather than, say, mental dysfunction. Like autists, I find it insulting when you try to evoke responses from me in the college den. However, I am not an autist, and so the joke is kind of on you, if you would be so cruel to do that. If you would.

I can fall in love. I fell in love 3.935 times, with four and three quarters of a girl. These are not factual recantations of an automaton or savant, these are measured findings of a studied, passionate, bully.

When I fall in love, then it falls apart, it hurts at f(x)/toAsThughIwouldGiveUTheFormula. I'm not cheap. I'm not an automaton. Not a savant. I chose this path in life. The level to which I fell apart was carefully gauged. I gave each dying neuron a silver watch. It was nuanced intentionally, and once my supermind was sated, it relieved my corporeal being to its nominal stance.

I chose this. So when I tell you that none of the structures of the world, or universe, impact me anymore, I hope you will not demote me automatically to a mere egoist, as is wont of lesser egos, under duress, and instead, more logically, try to run me over with you car(s).

:) Also, buy a fucking playstation 3 and fight me @ stweet fighter 4. stweet, yes. come on. use your food stamps, cheapos.

Unlike autists, who strive lifelong to simulate the cogitations of common humans, I just stride beyond, because I already know what is there. I know the darkness, the emptiness that resides in the human condition, in every human soul (try as they might to declare themselves existing).

I have chosen to live beyond the peepulls.