Friday, August 21, 2015

My evil, black bones

I guess if I'm looking for a place out of a dream, this is it.  This is the place.

You know how you're always kind of hoping that the improbable will happen?  That it'll just be right there around the corner, pristine and unexplored?  Don't you have an idea of the unexpected, of how you imagine it might be, just up ahead and barely out of sight?

How can you imagine the unexpected, though?  It's never really there, is it?  You turn the corner, or you top the rise, and it's just what you expected the whole time.  It's just another place that you know.  Another where you are about to be, another where you are now, another where you just were.

First, before I go on, I have to ask a question.  To you, ok?  Whoever might be, or is reading this, if anyone.  If it's anyone, then that means it's you... but probably just nobody, because that's more likely just about all the time. Wrap your noodle around that and choke on it nobody, otay?

Anyway, it don't matter who's getting asked  because I'm the one asking it, and there ain't nobody here where I am right now to answer it...  except you in the maybe future of things, which I don't give one and a half shits about, so shut up and let me think.  Geez...

Anywho.  Do you think that magic is real? Do you think that it's possible for reality to defy your logical thought, and to actually manifest? Manifest as a verb... to become, to be real.  I didn't look that up, that's just what I think manifest means, ok?  From here on out, manifest means to coalesce, to condense, to become a happening in a strange way, OK?  OK!

Why are you so touchy anyway?  I dunno, why am I so touchy? I'm a touchy feely kind of guy, I guess.  MOVING ON.

Sorry about that, I haven't been getting much sleep lately and as a result I'm super pissed off and irritable right now.  It's the way I am most of the time though, so I don't know why I'm even apologizing for it. 

OH HELL!  Screw it. The dream feeling is long gone, and so is my inspiration for writing any of this.  Man.  Being me is such a complexified fiasco of hateful, painful, unutterable secret and shameful layers of self pity and self loathing that I wish I would just catch fire so it would all peel up and sail away, so that my ugly black bones could lie there and bleach in the sun, the SUN DAMMIT, FUCK YOU, AUTOSPELL!

I want my evil Black bones to purify in the Sun.  I'll be in a better mood tomorrow, and I'll finish this thing. I actually did have something to say. However, now it's time for another session of insomnia.

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