9.13

I'm afraid I had some reading to do today so I didn't finish that until AFTER midnight so I'm pulling my "day ends when I desire" trick.

I love to explore empty spaces where no one is.

Basements

Churches

Houses

Barns

Emptiness is coated with a thin layer of alone that swishes up around me and sucks at my shoes. It slows me down.

The further I get into a lonely place the slower I go. Doorknobs are a reverent thought: is it locked? Or can I proceed? I have to stifle a sneeze to preserve the still. I have to walk softly to prevent my clumsy footfall's ruin of pristine silence.

When at last I am surrounded by locked doors, dead ends, knick-knacks and forgotten boxes, I stop and smile.

When you have found the place that no one will go, somehow, you become Conquistador.

9.12c

I feel selfish when I ask for things but I know I won't get them otherwise.

And sometimes people want me to ask because they want to know some way to show that they care.

So if I ask for things you aren't willing to give, am I being a bad person?

I'm still trying to figure it out. In the meantime:

I tried to stab her but I just couldn't. She was right there and I hated her so much and she wasn't even looking and I was wearing gloves and I had somebody else's knife and nobody knew where we were and it's not like anyone would even suspect me for killing her but for some reason I couldn't.

Maybe subconsciously, owning a poodle wasn't proper justification for murder.

9.12b

I feel like an idiot most of the time

I fall down

and break things

hurt

scare

insult people

I can't find

the right way

to make you love me

9.12a

I am 4 posts behind, and due to my inability to write a "d" post, I will not catch up today.

I'm chewing my food but I can't really taste it anymore. People apparently have the ability to focus completely on one single object, but I never put much thought into that until just now when I found myself doing it. So I dragged myself away from my mind and into my subconscious and started me some meta-cognition. I had been focused on food and I remember thinking about how the little crunchy bits were the best and then all of a sudden I know I wasn't focusing on my food anymore. So I think that was about when she walked into the room all slow-like and gauzy and not with a little sway in her self like a snake or a hunting cat but not quite like either and a little more of both so she became more than herself and drew my eye and held it and it was not like I could look away. I kept staring at her, mouth still moving I guess because by the time she walked past me I don't remember having any more food in my mouth but that could be because my jaw dropped and all the food slid out crunchy or no. So I guess I do remember what happened but it was like it happened to somebody else, that's all I'm saying. That focus was powerful strange though. I think I have heard people use the term single-minded but that ain't quite it, it's more like you have your whole mind all the time but just now you're using it all to focus on this one thing.

Well I know for me I was focused on that gentle curve up from down below to up above, like if you see a tree that gets all bent over in some wind or maybe the path a cat takes as its jumping or maybe a snake as it speeds after its prey or maybe when a hawk falls out of the sky after something else and then somehow pulls out and it makes such a graceful careening arc and you just wish you could fly so that then she would notice me here with my crunchy bits and my sadness that she's gone.

9.8

Why do we constantly re-imagine old stories? Is it our urge to create something from our past that speaks to us now? Or are we just trying to breathe new life into aged relics?

Or are we just being pretentious little cusses, taking something that has stood the test of time and "fixing" it?

Gilgamesh spun and faced the attackers. "COME FACE ME, COWARDS!" he roared. "I AM HALF GOD AND ALL FURY, COME TO REIGN OVER YOUR LAND." The cowardly Phonecian general rounded his troops around the outcrop to flank the master fighter. "I AM ZERO PERCENT FEAR, BY THE WAY. I WILL SLICE THROUGH YOUR TROOPS LIKE A BUTCHER SLICES THROUGH MEAT!"

Christ turned to his disciples. "Rock on, man. Keep the spirit with you at all times, and you will make it to the other side of Galilee. Keep your pick hand strong."

Richard rounded quickly, charging at John. "You have destroyed any honor this family may have had. You have squandered our respect and wealth, and left me to rot in a German prison."

John backed up rapidly, tripping over a rug and sprawling on the ground.

"You will pay for your treachery. Lock him in the tower!"

"Aragorn, why are you turning your back to me?"

"I . . . I have something to tell you. I'm pregnant."

"You're a . . ."

"Say it."

"Vampire!"

p.s.

fan fiction should die,

except for My Immortal, which is unintentionally hilarious, and also surprisingly nsfw.

p.p.s

I selectively took the caramel from my pocket. And then….. I began frenching Draco sexily.

9.7b

At what point do you cross over from being enemies to being friends?

Where's the line between joy and sorrow?

How do you know when you love somebody?

9.7

Snap Judgements

The Japanese are better than toy cars,

but I liked cars better as a kid.

North Dakota is better than (most of) Texas.

Lumberjacks are better than business meetings.

Snowboarding is better than MTV.

Waterfalls are better than nachos.

NASA is better than prairies.

ComicCon is better than a spelling bee.

Velociraptors are better than a bestselling novel.

Bill Gates is better than electric shavers.

Towels are better than silicone.

Bungalow is better than relative,

but diphtheria is better than both.

"It's wrong!" says she.

"It's an opinion. It literally CANNOT be wrong," say I.

She still hasn't responded.

9.5a

I missed the fourth. I opened the website, commented on things, and then left.

I never could understand her. She never jumped on things randomly. She never rolled down hills. She never tore long strips out of her napkins. She never threw her food on the floor. She never beat her head with sticks. She always listened to the voices and never screamed back.

She was crazy, which is why it surprised him that she took him to the hospital.

9.3b

I like hair. I like when it's flyaway and wild, when it's silky and tamed, when it's dark and sleek, when it's bright and sassy, and when it's right in between. I like hair that curves down in cascades, that streaks past the shoulders, that bobs at the ear, that frizzes, that puffs, that isn't afraid of what it is.

I don't like lies.

I don't like blondes with dark eyebrows

or highlights

or dyes

or straight-headed curls

or curled up straights

or hairs pushed and prodded that

pull and that yearn

or beg of their head

to

"Let me be me."

Phoney Nickle

9.3a

I meant to write another yesterday but never got around to it.

I woke up this morning with a heat headache. I rolled out of bed and checked the air conditioner. It was off. I got so angry I wanted to throw up.

I think I'll call in sick today.

9.2a

The Wizard slowly stepped out of his limousine, chocolate sprinkles tinkling silently on the lush carpet. "I am here to collect your princess," said he to the empty room. "The foremost warrior in your realm, mighty and impervious to moral befuddlement, Gerald, did implore me to take her in exchange for a declaration of peace."

A servant streaked through carrying a rump roast.

"AHEM" the Wizard announced. He slammed the door so hard that the chauffeur jumped in his seat, grinding more sprinkles into his slacks. "I SAID I AM HERE FOR THE PRINCESS BUT OBVIOUSLY YOU PEOPLE DON'T HAVE ANY RESPECT FOR OLD AGE."

A servant wheeled a vat of chicken grease across the antechamber.

"I say, you there!"

The servant slowed, turned, shivered, and threw himself into the vat.

I poked my head around the corner where I was hiding. Francis skittered across the floor.

"THERE YOU ARE" the Wizard screamyelled.

"You're missing your nupitals" I said, hair blowing back from the force of the Wizard's halitosis.

"YOU MUST GIVE ME THE PRINCESS OR say what again?"

"You are eleven hours late for your own wedding."

"I MUST HAVE why am I yelling FORGOTTEN TO ACCOUNT FOR THE FACT THAT DWARVES DO NOT KEEP ACCURATE TIME."

I ushered the wizard into the cathedral. He nodded gravely to the right side but coldly rebuffed the left. He dragged the princess off the podium and outside.

"Where are we going?" she squealed.

"TO THE CANDYCANE FOREST wow my voice gets loud SO THAT I CAN THEN TEACH YOU THE MEANING OF 'HIGH FRUCTOSE!'" yelled he.

That day was the last time I ever saw the Wizard.

Francis grew up and became the prime minister.

I grew up and became something that sounds far less impressive.

8.29

My room mate rambles, throughly dampening the walls with words. They splash onto every surface, coating it with slick, impenetrable goo. Everything I touch now slowly slimes me and I can't get it off my hands. I can't escape. I sit down to study and his words prick the skin on my back. I try to escape to the internet but his words bind my hands to the keyboard.

He talks too much.

(also: whatever, I don't care)

I didn't write this but it is brilliant.

NSFW 302-8a3

Hereby designated Specimen 8a3, it is a small example of an object classified as NSFW-302 under the █████████ Multi Level Catalog. Specimen 8a3 is a small 102x232 image retrieved from the browser cache of support personnel 821311 during the investigation that ensued after 821311's desiccated body was found in sub level B32.

Specimen 8a3 is known to induce violent bleeding in most test subjects from several orifices, most notably the eye sockets. In addition, some individuals may be compelled to perform acts of ████████, wherein pieces of clothing are ███████ and other bodily fluids forcibly ██████ █████. In all cases where the viewing time was enough for cognitive registration, subjects are either killed instantly due to trauma and/or excessive blood loss or otherwise reduced to a permanent vegetative state.

The nature of psychological hazard posed by Specimen 8a3 makes analysis difficult. Copies of the image exhibit the same properties. Color shifting and other image distortion methods prove ineffective in mitigating its effects. Based on data acquired from fragments of the image, Specimen 8a3 is known to be mostly flesh toned although some, generally from the central region of 8a3 have more reddish hues. There is also what appears to be a human ██████ in one of the fragments, awaiting the results of further analysis for confirmation. Histogram data from multiple instances indicate the image may be polymorphic as well.

Specimen 8a3 is currently protected by multi-factor encryption and stored in a ███████ thumb drive physically secured in Facility ████. Based on the circumstances surrounding the discovery of the specimen, it is highly likely that copies are still floating around the internet, although there have been no further reports of cases matching the effects of Specimen 8a3. The Foundation has enacted Protocol ███ in an effort to catch a copy in the wild, and proxy servers have been installed in major office buildings around the world that will attempt to recognize 8a3, but success is limited by the polymorphic nature of the subject.

8.28

I wrapped the gerbil tighter into my coat. Even if I wouldn't make it, Francis would still have a fighting chance.

I struggled through the waist-deep cotton candy until I made it to the wall. Sweat slowly crawled down my back, wetting the cotton candy already stuck there, weighing me down. I thought of the raisins in my pocket, and decided to wait until the opportune time.

I slowly snowplowed my way up the stairs, struggling to gain purchase with my novelty clown shoes. After 37 steps and an eternity of effort, I reached the top of the stairs, and a fairly clear area at the top where he stood.

"Oh, mighty wizard of enchantments and abjurations!" I cried. "I beseech thee, stop this plague and take the princess instead!" I beseeched. "You lay waste to our lands in the name of love, and we can scarce find the resources to fight you! Besides, the princess isn't that hot anyway!"
"ARE YOU SAYING YOU GIVE UP?" came the booming reply.

"Essentially, yes."

"HAHAHAHAHAHA HAHA HA. I wiiiin I wiiiiin! You lose, I win NANANANANANA NA."

The fact that he was a sore winner wasn't making this any easier. Slowly, I drew the raisins from my pocket. "Well, if you're going to be like that . . ."

I flung them at him and yelled "DRIED FRUIT!"

He stared in shock for a split second, caught inbetween two "HAs" and a triple "NA" stream. Then the raisins hit him in the face, and he shrieked in terror.

"YOU KNOW I HATE DRIED FRUIT! NOW IT'S STUCK IN MY COLLAR YOU STUPID IDIOT! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET IT OUT? GAH THIS IS WHY MY MOTHER ALWAYS TOLD ME TO NOT WEAR LACE."

I turned with Francis and ran down the stairs as the wizard slowly picked raisins out of his clothing.

I think I won.

8.27

New School Year

He walked down the long [stupid] hallway to his first [insufferable] class. He [wearily] took a seat near the front of the classroom [because teachers always watch the back]. He arranged four [boring][black] pens on his desk and shuffled [useless] papers around in his [undersized] backpack. He felt like [cursing] using the restroom, but he thought that [he would be kicked out] he could hold it.

The [Ponce] professor [slouched] walked in and [horrified] addressed the [menial mind slaves] class.
"My name is Professor [Prickworthy Pooppants] Lane, and if you [want to leave] have any questions, address them to [my rump] me. If any of you are [more intelligent than me] in the wrong [hellhole] class, now would be a good time to [hit me in the face with a brick] leave. I [eat babies] hope you all [shrink up and die] have [two guns to do the job] a [minor migrane] good [psychiatrist] year."

He [smacked the desk in frustration, stood and chewed out the teacher for arriving late, stormed around the front of the room, declaiming the school, professor, and program for instituting such a useless, idiotic class, with absolutely no viable positive effect on his skills or knowledge] smiled.

He was ready for class.

[Hardly.]