(no subject)
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Time, man. Time flies like a mother-fucker. It goes away before you can say hello, and leaves again before you can apologize for being so rude. The way that it just keeps coming and coming like an endless ocean, a completely sea-locked boat, lost at sea, nothing but sea, water and water and waves and waves. Time and more time. Time for this, time for that.
Time to read, time to write, time to eat, time to shit. You got the time? ...*quizzical look* for what?
Slow down time; as if. But it is funny. If I move slower. It, well. It changes me. If I type in a rush. Then I get all sorts of ways and thoughts and ideas and it flows frankly naturely, but I err and I fix, and it's all done with a sort of rush and a *must KEEP. GOING. mentality. But.
When I slow down. When I relax. I can begin, again, each word with poise and focus. Grace may yet be beyond Beyonce--nah I kid, it's beyond me, but not her.
The time for change is now. The time for the future... And then the dog barks and I go to calm him down/see if anyone is at the door, and when i return the whole flow of everything is changed.
Tomorrow will be new. Again.
So familiar. So very familiar.
So new. So very new. So strangely familiarly, newly, just-like-the-old, but totally different enough to make it curiosity-creating. And the day after tomorrow is going to be a real mind-fuckery of "OK, so now I'm here. Let's uh, let's go do this." and steel myself for the coming onslaught of just how NEW it will all be.
But very familiar. A skill set I have learned can be employed for me to function, live and produce. I shall get by, make due, improve where I can, and improv where I can't. I'll be getting a new world of experience, no doubt about it.
It's one of those anagram times of the day, so that means I need to wrap it up. It's been a pleasure, it's been a treat. It's a message to my future self. That's what all writing actually is. Messages to our future selves. If only we could write messages to our past selves. That'd be a treat.
First twelve million or so would all be variations on: "go kill Hitler"
Cuz that's what time-travel should be used for.
Relevant XKCD to close out the night:
Time, man. Time flies like a mother-fucker. It goes away before you can say hello, and leaves again before you can apologize for being so rude. The way that it just keeps coming and coming like an endless ocean, a completely sea-locked boat, lost at sea, nothing but sea, water and water and waves and waves. Time and more time. Time for this, time for that.
Time to read, time to write, time to eat, time to shit. You got the time? ...*quizzical look* for what?
Slow down time; as if. But it is funny. If I move slower. It, well. It changes me. If I type in a rush. Then I get all sorts of ways and thoughts and ideas and it flows frankly naturely, but I err and I fix, and it's all done with a sort of rush and a *must KEEP. GOING. mentality. But.
When I slow down. When I relax. I can begin, again, each word with poise and focus. Grace may yet be beyond Beyonce--nah I kid, it's beyond me, but not her.
The time for change is now. The time for the future... And then the dog barks and I go to calm him down/see if anyone is at the door, and when i return the whole flow of everything is changed.
Tomorrow will be new. Again.
So familiar. So very familiar.
So new. So very new. So strangely familiarly, newly, just-like-the-old, but totally different enough to make it curiosity-creating. And the day after tomorrow is going to be a real mind-fuckery of "OK, so now I'm here. Let's uh, let's go do this." and steel myself for the coming onslaught of just how NEW it will all be.
But very familiar. A skill set I have learned can be employed for me to function, live and produce. I shall get by, make due, improve where I can, and improv where I can't. I'll be getting a new world of experience, no doubt about it.
It's one of those anagram times of the day, so that means I need to wrap it up. It's been a pleasure, it's been a treat. It's a message to my future self. That's what all writing actually is. Messages to our future selves. If only we could write messages to our past selves. That'd be a treat.
First twelve million or so would all be variations on: "go kill Hitler"
Cuz that's what time-travel should be used for.
Relevant XKCD to close out the night: