not this post, no, not this post, prometheus
the constant whirring in my head has slowed down dramatically. this is definitely a measureable measurement. was there ever any benefit? i don't know. it must have been a coping tool. maybe a bad one. but not if it got the job done. did it? what did, i wonder. eventuality. this job. crying and complaining. a bit of hope. when did it come? before there was reason to hope or after?
yeah, so, i'm envisioning myself standing up, but transparent, because it's like i'm my spirit emerging like a dead soul from out of my other self who's still on one knee clenching his fists to his face. i'm surprised to still feel what he feels. i wonder if he'll give me trouble, like a hand that's been cut off but forever feels as if it's still there, clenched. a psychological mess.
but, no, i don't think so. well, maybe it will cause me problems, but never ones that weigh on my mind. more like ones where i won't see something obvious to other people, but i'll stand stubbornly and confidently by the fact that i don't see it. someone will be able to describe me as, well, sometimes he lacks this or that or can be overly that or this. i always wondered how anyone could get a way that could be continually explained. i thought, how wouldn't someone always be changing or able to change. well, maybe people all get into a psychological mess. whatever it takes to live. hey, these things can make us different. less definable. predictable. mechanical. commandable.
or i can just go ride around and honk my horn in my new car because it's my new car. it's like a new mustang without the glamorous name or dependable performance.
and then there's columbus and cortez and all those aliens that helped them conquer the new world. we should do something about that unjustice. perhaps, civil war. anyone? if you're having trouble, you could pray to me and just assume that i'm always right. you may as well. well, me or that speghetti monster. you could just skip me and pray straight to him.
but gee blogposter, isn't that kinda sacraligious?
sorry, what?
not this post, no, not this post prometheus
yeah, so, i'm envisioning myself standing up, but transparent, because it's like i'm my spirit emerging like a dead soul from out of my other self who's still on one knee clenching his fists to his face. i'm surprised to still feel what he feels. i wonder if he'll give me trouble, like a hand that's been cut off but forever feels as if it's still there, clenched. a psychological mess.
but, no, i don't think so. well, maybe it will cause me problems, but never ones that weigh on my mind. more like ones where i won't see something obvious to other people, but i'll stand stubbornly and confidently by the fact that i don't see it. someone will be able to describe me as, well, sometimes he lacks this or that or can be overly that or this. i always wondered how anyone could get a way that could be continually explained. i thought, how wouldn't someone always be changing or able to change. well, maybe people all get into a psychological mess. whatever it takes to live. hey, these things can make us different. less definable. predictable. mechanical. commandable.
or i can just go ride around and honk my horn in my new car because it's my new car. it's like a new mustang without the glamorous name or dependable performance.
and then there's columbus and cortez and all those aliens that helped them conquer the new world. we should do something about that unjustice. perhaps, civil war. anyone? if you're having trouble, you could pray to me and just assume that i'm always right. you may as well. well, me or that speghetti monster. you could just skip me and pray straight to him.
but gee blogposter, isn't that kinda sacraligious?
sorry, what?
not this post, no, not this post prometheus
on a whim, chad was marco @ 6:11 PM
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