Shades Of Green
2001-05-26 - 10:42 p.m.
Oh, the things one can find on the ground, late at night. The things one can find...a card to a floral background store named �Twigs�. The name gives me the impression that they aren�t very good at their trade, and would make more money in the business of hand-crafted Philippine wicker baskets. And remember, when life hands you twigs, tie them together into a faggot, call it a bouquet, and leave it on someone else�s porch.
I dropped my spoon three times during breakfast, which was eaten at fifteen-�til noon. This had something to do with getting too much sleep last night. I repeat, TOO MUCH. Without Arron�s snoring, I was able o pass out for nearly eleven hours...that�s three days of jasonsleep packed into one night...*sleepytwitch* Somehow this amount of sleep has had an unrejuvenating effect, and made me just as tired as I was before the sleep happened. Now I feel a need to make up for ten hours of my life...erg.
I shoved a hard-boiled egg yoke into each of my eyes. The egg, it crumbled, and my eyes, they hurt.
Later I found myselves meditating cross-legged style on top of a Coke machine downtown. Kind of a "practice your freedom of religion...drink coke" add. Townies looked at me funni. A couple even stopped to say "hi...you�re so cute" and ask me what I was doing. Sorta like when you see a child dragging a tomato across the floor on a string (compliments to Bill Cosby), and you ask �em what their doin�.
The remainder of today was spent exercising my massater muscles. I had a couple packs of gum and a box of sour patches to go through. No real reason for it, other than being able to watch the temples on my bald head undulate. Maybe someday my jaw will be strong enough to bite that hand that keep feeding me.
[Hello there. I am Archibald, the bite-sized man that puts these comments in brackets whenever Jason�s thoughts seem a little...inadequate. You see, a while ago, when the Soliloquy was first being formed, Jason acquired a metaphorical hole in his head. The hole had to be patched, before his shrink-wrapped thoughts were exposed to too much oxygen. At the time, I was a janitor from 2045AD, and the need for people of my expertise was quickly diminishing. So I took up this job to keep me busy. The hole isn�t completely fixed, and I find that his smoking doesn�t help to heal the wound. This, of course, provides me with job security. Nice meetin� you all.]
Shyt happens, and then you get over it, one way or another. And you�re never the person you think you are...a stranger inside the walls of your own head. So do you care about the shyt that a stranger goes through? They says you should. You should at least consider it.
�I will no more weep because this one Roman camp is in ruins, than I will weep because this one English biscuit is inn ruins� �G. K. Chesterson
On Egytian ruins. You learn in school that the pyramids were places of death. Well, why not a place for storage, or protection? When you have a week-long dust storm, where are you gonna hide but in the big-ass indestructible fortification in the middle of town? Very similar to anthills, the pyramid provides a place to store things [like food] in case of famine. And on the rare occasion that barbarians raid the town, what better place to store your valuable items than in a large stone fortification that only has once entrance? There was a priestess found with several dozen servants and a few horses, all of whom supposedly drank poison because they were so devoted to her. Was this really a case of dedication to a demigod, or just a long episode of storms and a touch of badd water? They says you can lead a hose to poison, but you need a priestess to convince it to drink. Where are you going to keep the body your beloved leader but in his own house [like a dog, buried in the back yard], as a king would be buried in his own castle? I doubt that the Egyptians, as mathematically and socially advanced as they were, would spend the effort and materials that they did just to bury one person. Or maybe the Egyptians were just unintelligent people obsessed with death, eh?
Sidenote: Offered weed tonight. Couldn't think of a creative type of inprovized bong to smoke it out of, so I declined.
