Huh. I didn’t realize how intensely I’ve been absent. It’s been an interesting week. It’s been an interesting year considering how much has been spent sitting around doing nothing. I was thinking about writing a flash around the idea of the only paradox in time travel is psychological; only a paradox for the human psyche, not, for, say, a rock. Somehow that was going to work into this small chunk of dialogue “What part of No crawled up your ass and died?”
I obviously didn’t write the flash. I’m barely writing this and if this falls down in a forest whilst trying to clap one hand then no one will hear it crawl up an ass. Crawling up an ass and dying is like time travel; we don’t think of an objective ass or a random ass. It’s like the difference between shitting the bed and shitting in the Wheaties. It is the shitter who gets the brown star, which bed is irrelevant. The Wheaties, however, are relevant, or, rather, who the Wheaties belong too.
Aren’tcha glad I’ve been absent? Yeah, me too.
EDIT
Florentine suggested and the queen agreed that I might, perhaps, possibly, not be completely forthcoming, and, whereas I couldn’t agree more I could agree less. I think those two combined are a matriarchal monarchy on a bed of spinach. I couldn’t be less mistaken.
I’m a shitty journalist. I mean I am shitty at keeping a journal, as far as journalism goes have you seen the state of the fourth estate? I could teach a dog better practice. Dogs like objective inverted pyramids. I don’t mean I could teach a smart dog (like a pit, a husky, a Sheppard auf Deutsch, Aussie or Belgium) I could teach a mentally challenged chili-wah-wah crack head that’s-some-ugly-fucking-cat kind of dog.
Wait, where was I? Oh, yeah, I’m shitty at journal keeping and, apparently, dog training. I used to, however, at least make some half assed attempts at concealing that my pyramids (both inverted and extroverted, convex and concave, squeaky and stealthy) were made of nerf. Ok, so nerf isn’t that kind of noun but you know what I meant. Nerf Journal writing, you can bap yourself on the head with it all day long without doing any damage except to the brain cells already suffering from … other causes.
If you don’t know what … other causes … are, you probably is them.
Heh.
I’ve managed some semblance of some paragraph-like-thingys and still haven’t said out-right that not very many “ Real “ events make it into any journal of mine unless someone else put em there. Oh, sorry, “real” is just like Bunny ears Real bunny ears only without air fingers. No bunnies were harmed in this paragraph.
So, yes, to speak directly to monarchs on spinach, um, yes. Shore you right.
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