I awoke from the disturbing dream with a clue as to how I wanted to write… Now I find myself struck by a lack of inspiration… It flowed out of me one minute, but then subsided as the frenzy lost its momentum… I write some disturbing stuff to launch it from my brain to yours… This is my sickness, my crude artistic merit under layers of bitter wit and droll humor, but I strive forward even as I feel I am only writing to a limited audience… Sleep has become a sport for edging closer to the remaining ideas intermingling within me… The dreams a harbinger for unreal ideas made out of pictures visualized in this state of listlessness… Does this shell feel as I do?… I sit and wonder where I am going with these ideas… The …
Here we are, the amassed, waiting to be saved from some imagined inevitable fury. Waiting for the grace of angels to guide us away beyond fear. Fearing the intrusion of our collective wisdom through fables and an idiotic literal interpretation of stories. Storytelling is the art of the free mind, to accept the damage done, and piece together the remains into a cohesive entity. A living breathing organism from which we can objectively face our greatest fears in an organized manner befitting a civilized culture. Culture really just eats away at our sense of individual freedom as we give ourselves over to something other than our own dreams of progress. Progressing beyond a vortex where we can live out the purest forms of ourselves at the peak of existence. Existing as beings of insight possessing a true understanding of …
…and business is rather mediocre at the moment.
that doesn’t stop me from purging my brain hemorrhages all over this blank space. sometimes it takes awhile to come up with more material, but don’t let that perturb you, if you like a certain tale watch it because I always go back and revise the tissue that makes up the story. visions always seem to be changing on me, and new ideas show up on my doorstep without warning. patience is always rewarded, though, and my stories will be no exception. that is why they fit into the on-going sub-category Here. for now, there is going to be time enough to work on everything you see Here, my friends. whether you love it or hate it, there is no reason to just give up on it, but that is always going …
two in this year. is that how it is every year now? the questions fill my mind to no feasible end. at times feeling like the monster, and others, like the martyr. i can see the good and the evil. the vile and the unjust on one hand, but the sweet and the sentimental upon the other. this tricks me into thinking that we can all see things this way, but do i really know the truth of the situation? again, a part of me says ‘yes’. the part of me that still remembers cold winters up north, but then the other half of me realizes the strange atmosphere that permeates the south. an environment of heat and restlessness unrelenting. seasons change as the mood varies from one aspect to another, and yet there is no refuting the proof …
the quiet sounds left in the wake of humanity disappearing from the planet soon move to reveal a new beginning, but what is next for this new world?
a tale of the demented Doctor and his manservant Lao as they commit to experiments at the fringe of the social animal that humanity has become. whatever that means …as we go further into ASYLUM…
a love tale between two cross-country friends as they take a long drive towards nowhere in particular, but what of the state of their romance?
“Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan “press on” has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.”
~ Calvin Coolidge; 30th president of the United States.
A better man could not have been found, but he has been haunting my dreams of late. Could he be that perfect person taking the apocalyptic role destined to proceed us to the end game? Is he really the fiend I might be implying? Only time will tell, and with the year 2012 fast approaching, it might just materialize as fact. Not a racist bone in me, I swear, but this change shit is a little too trippy for me. As most of our modern ancestors have been waiting for this step into innovation for ages. This civilization is coming to a frothy head, my darlings, and so on that note, this is only part of the beginning. As for the whole antichrist bit, what I am trying to get at is that Hey Seuss’ appearance on this plane …
