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Wow, this dude on the bus is typing a really angry letter to someone named Carrie.
Excerpts: “You always told me to ‘Let it go’ but it is ALWAYS YOU who never lets go of anything, so you are a liar.”
“So none of your fucked up logic makes any fucking sense Carrie”
“I playfully called you a weasel and you playfully called me a weasel. Now I know that you actually are one.”
“Let’s say for argument’s sake you were a lesbian, a murderer, or a porn star…”
Here’s a sonnet I made out of found material online. It was taken from the cesspool of personal ads from Craigslist. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go wash my hands.
I am looking for someone to be with,
I am good looking and available.
I prefer someone younger than myself
someone who is tall, and charming, and stable.
Thought I would give this thing a try.
We will just have to play it slow to start,
and I’m about 6 foot tall with brown eyes,
looking for a girl with a big heart.
If you are still reading this, you must know
I need someone to connect to, and to talk to.
Please describe yourself, and attach a recent photo
Looking for the girl of my dreams, it could be you.
Message me for an amazing connection.
If you are serious, then let’s see what happens.
A Stone Is Nobody's
A man ambushed a stone. Caught it. Made it a prisoner.
Put it in a dark room and stood guard over it for the
rest of his life.
His mother asked why.
He said, because it’s held captive, because it is
Look, the stone is asleep, she said, it does not know
whether it’s in a garden or not. Eternity and the stone
are mother and daughter; it is you who are getting old.
The stone is only sleeping.
But I caught it, mother, it is mine by conquest, he said.
A stone is nobody’s, not even its own. It is you who are
conquered; you are minding the prisoner, which is yourself,
because you are afraid to go out, she said.
Yes yes, I am afraid, because you have never loved me,
Which is true, because you have always been to me as
the stone is to you, she said.
The Opium Eaters by Bernini
I was having palpitations and then I lay down and I closed my eyes and when I opened them a switch had flipped and suddenly every solution was presented to me in a string of coherent thought-projections (imagined actions with concurrent evaluative feelings and demonstrative wordforms), the delivery of which made me gasp at their aptness, and the thoughts “the endless collisions in the endless spirals, deathwork” and “everything is a just a big old bulge in the denim of space time, I am a GENIUS lol” which as I write that last clause half started to sound out with a series of electronic wobbles, which I’m pretty sure was meant to be an elaborate joke played on me by my inner ears. Now enough clowning around, the ground is set for me, I have work to do. There is no reason for habits but for that we grow to think that there is reason for habits, but more power to that I say because without habits nothing gets done. There is no nonsense in nonsense but for sense itself. I gross myself out but it’s ok this way cause im an atheist who is full of god which essentially means that I don’t believe in humans. Don’t look at me I’m just the narrator ba dum ba dum ch. hahahhahahah pick some laughs, any laughs, any laughs you like. I’m eating jammie dodgers for dinner tonight.
i’m shivering but i’m not cold.
i’m not saying i’m not worthy of contempt in the courts of naturalised law.
i bought my sister some rings from new look for her birthday and she gave me one of them. it’s a pair of angel wings and i wear it on my thumb, on my other hand i have a ring my grandad bought for my nan.
it’s really just about remembering that i am capable of “typing”(read: inputting output) in all situations, which is difficult to do since i don’t really think that mavis beacon teaches typing made me learn the skill any faster than i would have had i learned it without such software, which itself would have remained conditional on whether i was aware that i could type things at will somewhere anyway, i suppose for the correct keyboard posture a health and safety worksheet would have done or just some other basic instruction, not that i wasn’t given instruction. mavis beacon teaches typing just taught me to worry all the time about being slow and inadequate. my parents tried to counteract that but i think mavis beacon teaches typing and swimming coaches yelling at me really shoved me quite neatly into that particular box. the box where one of a person’s dominant fears being a fear of failure stunts their growth. it’s a huge, huge box, it has to accomadate a great many people.
file under books i haven’t read but might do someday, btw nerds. you wanted to see how i talk to myself, well here it is folks, i talk to myself in sounds, sights, and potential communiques because that’s how it works, it’s not my fault i am contemptible. if i don’t tell anyone what i’ve seen and do what i think i should do well then i’m just a thousand bouncy balls bouncing round a barge enni.
SET YOURSELF ON FIRE FOR THE CAUSE.
SELF IMMOLATE HARMLESSLY FOR THE SHEER CAUSALITY.
that’s enough jammie dodgers for me
Note to self: if you’re ever accidentally around when there’s a mass killing or an explosion please please please don’t try to prove to everyone that you’re sooo jaaded by imagess by failing to have a bodily reaction, because that would surely set loose the aimless dogs of reddit to gnaw on your web presence and your web presence would make you look quite un-stable or shall we say “radical” to an unstable eye hunting for “madmen”. terrifying spectre of the maleable court of the land does not look kindly on humour, not even the jokes of children.
Ladies and Gentlemen we’d all like to remind you that this is satire.
the following image is a demonstration of satire:
WOW, GOOGLE IMAGE SEARCH : RADICAL 90S
ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?
no but really, google it. i’m gonna take screenshots.
Guilt, therefore, I do not acknowledge; and if I did, it is possible that I might still resolve on the present act of confession in consideration of the service which I may thereby render to the whole class of opium-eaters. But who are they? Reader, I am sorry to say a very numerous class indeed. Of this I became convinced some years ago by computing at that time the number of those in one small class of English society (the class of men distinguished for talents, or of eminent station) who were known to me, directly or indirectly, as opium-eaters; such, for instance, as the eloquent and benevolent —-, the late Dean of —-, Lord —-, Mr. —- the philosopher, a late Under-Secretary of State (who described to me the sensation which first drove him to the use of opium in the very same words as the Dean of —-, viz., “that he felt as though rats were gnawing and abrading the coats of his stomach”), Mr. —-, and many others hardly less known, whom it would be tedious to mention. Now, if one class, comparatively so limited, could furnish so many scores of cases (and that within the knowledge of one single inquirer), it was a natural inference that the entire population of England would furnish a proportionable number. The soundness of this inference, however, I doubted, until some facts became known to me which satisfied me that it was not incorrect. I will mention two. (1) Three respectable London druggists, in widely remote quarters of London, from whom I happened lately to be purchasing small quantities of opium, assured me that the number of amateur opium-eaters (as I may term them) was at this time immense; and that the difficulty of distinguishing those persons to whom habit had rendered opium necessary from such as were purchasing it with a view to suicide, occasioned them daily trouble and disputes. This evidence respected London only. But (2)—which will possibly surprise the reader more—some years ago, on passing through Manchester, I was informed by several cotton manufacturers that their workpeople were rapidly getting into the practice of opium-eating; so much so, that on a Saturday afternoon the counters of the druggists were strewed with pills of one, two, or three grains, in preparation for the known demand of the evening. The immediate occasion of this practice was the lowness of wages, which at that time would not allow them to indulge in ale or spirits, and wages rising, it may be thought that this practice would cease; but as I do not readily believe that any man having once tasted the divine luxuries of opium will afterwards descend to the gross and mortal enjoyments of alcohol, I take it for granted
That those eat now who never ate before;
And those who always ate, now eat the more.
Indeed, the fascinating powers of opium are admitted even by medical writers, who are its greatest enemies. Thus, for instance, Awsiter, apothecary to Greenwich Hospital, in his “Essay on the Effects of Opium” (published in the year 1763), when attempting to explain why Mead had not been sufficiently explicit on the properties, counteragents, &c., of this drug, expresses himself in the following mysterious terms (φωναντα συνετοισι): “Perhaps he thought the subject of too delicate a nature to be made common; and as many people might then indiscriminately use it, it would take from that necessary fear and caution which should prevent their experiencing the extensive power of this drug, for there are many properties in it, if universally known, that would habituate the use, and make it more in request with us than with Turks themselves; the result of which knowledge,” he adds, “must prove a general misfortune.” In the necessity of this conclusion I do not altogether concur; but upon that point I shall have occasion to speak at the close of my Confessions, where I shall present the reader with the moral of my narrative.
the sad part is that i now have to get to doing the work that i planned out before i started to write this.