clutch money in the mail
2002-05-01 - 11:53 a.m.
In Mynd today, trees are being planted in the old swamps. Dwarf-sized willows. Nemo (no-one) is sure who is planting them, or if they might have sprung up by themselves, but Omni (every-one) suspects that Goblyn is still alive somewhere and gaining powers.
Things I should have said when I started writing *here*: The following may have been exaggerated to protect the all-too-innocent.
Groundbreaking. Last night, at 2:58AM, I was able to have two vices conversing on different topics simultaneously, an ability which had fully disappeared from the time at which I was smoking lotsa weed and went into comas (note the plural).
God cheats. He re-uses fractal patterns in different mediums, which might lead a person to think that there is an near-infinity-multiplied-by-near-infinity system of fractals, when in actuality it only near-infinity-multiplied-by-one. Sidewalk cracks and lightning bolts. Arrangement patterns of different plant cell walls, leaf stem points, etc. Human behavioral patterns and tofu that�s been sitting out on the counter for too long.
In world news today: Recently, the Bush administration has doing the research on a law to make it illegal for foreign students to come to the US and take majors in nuclear sciences, most types of engineering (including genetic/biological), high-level chemistry what-have-you, and African botanical studies. Of course, someone along the line is going to realize that a) 95% of the people in these majors are from other countries because they couldn�t get a good enough formal education where they�re from, and b) people don�t need to learn things in schools. You can gain just as much information from basic curiosity and a guy with a beard that will allows you to access his library. This, of course, is on top of laws that are already in place, allowing foreign students to be arrested in this country for no reason, at which point they may be held for two weeks (for an American-born civilian, this time is usually 24 hours). In other news, I suppose that the anti-drug campaign must be going pretty well...that whole cabinet of semi-closet-addicts is a walking �this is what happens when you fry an egg in a pan� advertisement.
A few nights ago, I wrote a three-page essay that might never be seen. But rather than putting it *here*, I just wanted to tell you that she was Japanese-punk-girl-in-a-plaid-skirt cute...the essay, that is. Damn good essay. *trash-bin storage*
Pist. For no other reason than that I am an animal, and animals can be pist. I used to believe in the power of Man, in the limitless possibilities of what man can make of oneself, and I have slowly come to realize that there is no real Man. There is only Man-who-has-stupified-himself, and Man-who-never-knew, and Man-who-never-wanted-anything-more-than-what-was-necessary. There is only man-who-would-sell-his-future-for-one-day-because-he-knows-only-the-Now. They fix each other�s hair. Comment on the smells of one another...everything the physical, everything the now. The social structure build on behavior, they scream and complain but don�t know what to do to accurately relieve their stress. More, they don�t know what makes them stressed. The stress makes them act in irrational ways, attributing this to that when that thing is really nothing similar, hold grudges and put gooey gods on pedestals only to bump into them and topple what they think was at the center of their being. In their stupidity, they rub it in, re-show me that they are animals, reminding me that I am an animal, where once a Man I was. They keep saying hello to me, every two minutes another �hi, how ya doin�?� even though they don�t care, and many don�t even wait for a response. Not like it matters, because that is a rather animal way to start something that could barely be called a �conversation�. In the dog language, it�s called �sniffsniff�. And their hellos. Oh, the torment I would render on this race if I knew that they were to evermore be saying �hello� to one another. Interrupts my chain of thought, so that I think I�m living in a hellish existence...walking around in a constant state of mental Chinese tortures. I can�t even get a whole theory out of my skull before- HELLO! WHAT ARE YOU UPTO? And already the head has turned from me, eager to say hello to another, smiling with the pleasure of shattering my would-be thought. And this reminds me, I am an animal. Man, in all his glory, could think a thought between hellos. The animal barely has time to figure out who has said hello to it before it is received by another hello!
Mal-formed note: Thoughts like fast train. Don�t jump on just right: lose head.
Sir#1: If you�ll pardon my saying, Sir, *that* man is ingenious.
Sir#2: Your saying is pardoned, but I would argue that he is not in genius, but out-of genius...over-the-top nothin�-but-net genius...if you will.
Sir#1: Genius plus.
Sir#2: You, my Sir, are ingenious in your comment.
Sir#1: And yet, comparatively speaking Sir, you just insulted me.
Sir#2: Not if you pardon my saying.
Sir#1: *considers* My pardon of your saying is accepted...after all, we�re all friends here.
Sir#2: Good then, no harm done?
Sir#1: Sir...could my opinion after the fact ever change whether harm was done or not?
