It turns out that wacky makes you do the wacky.
I was trying to write a story yesterday. I won't go into details about it because it hasn't gone anywhere yet, largely due to my ever-increasing madness.
As proof of that madness, which is subsequently in direct proportion to my all encompassing genius, I offer you this two word phrase that I just realized is still sitting in my firefox find bar.
Omnitemporal Logging.
I don't recall why I put it there, but its creation at my hand must surely mean that I have ascended to the next level of abstract psuedo-philosophy. I fully expect all of time to stop around me, after which a winged half-man will appear before me and identify himself as Reason. Knowing him to be an impostor, I will attack this half-man and reveal him to actually be the negative shadow of Harry Truman.
"Ahh," I will remark. "The True Man. I should have known."
"And know you shall," he will respond. It is then that he will reach beyond light and grasp firmly the wreath of Childhood's Memory. His pull will send me through to the shores beyond, and it is there that my training will finally end. With a final gasp of air will I plunge down into the murky depths of this dark and terrifying newness, only to burst free on the other side. Wet, cold, and lacking in all things, I will scorch my new name into the first land to bear my weight.
That name will be a seed, and that seed will sprout light and fullness. I shall thrust out my palm and speak unto the True Man, "Hark, for I have sprouted spritely and am now spry of spirit."
"I can say nothing to that," will the True Man say. "For in this place, only you have voice."
"And yet ear have I as well," I will remind him. "And thus can hear that which you do not speak."
The True Man will drop to his knees, then. Wailing against the uncomfortable nature of ergonomics, he will crash his fists upon the earth which bears my name. From these impacts will rumble forth the treasures of all peoples, and we shall be overcome by a sea of things that shine, family reborn, and knowledge everlasting.
In this wave will I plant my feet and spread my arms. It is then that I will be in all times, and all places, for all times are all places.
And then the Omnitemporal Logging industry will cut me down. So please, write your representatives and tell them to save the Omnitempotal Forests That Are Actually M. McGregor Having Transcended Into Some Kind Of Magical Tree Metaphor That May Or May Not Know Everything by saying no to special interest groups and lobbyists.
Thank you.
This is all my way of saying, "I think I need to write more Sights Unseed, because the crazy inside of me, she is clamoring to be released."
As proof of that madness, which is subsequently in direct proportion to my all encompassing genius, I offer you this two word phrase that I just realized is still sitting in my firefox find bar.
Omnitemporal Logging.
I don't recall why I put it there, but its creation at my hand must surely mean that I have ascended to the next level of abstract psuedo-philosophy. I fully expect all of time to stop around me, after which a winged half-man will appear before me and identify himself as Reason. Knowing him to be an impostor, I will attack this half-man and reveal him to actually be the negative shadow of Harry Truman.
"Ahh," I will remark. "The True Man. I should have known."
"And know you shall," he will respond. It is then that he will reach beyond light and grasp firmly the wreath of Childhood's Memory. His pull will send me through to the shores beyond, and it is there that my training will finally end. With a final gasp of air will I plunge down into the murky depths of this dark and terrifying newness, only to burst free on the other side. Wet, cold, and lacking in all things, I will scorch my new name into the first land to bear my weight.
That name will be a seed, and that seed will sprout light and fullness. I shall thrust out my palm and speak unto the True Man, "Hark, for I have sprouted spritely and am now spry of spirit."
"I can say nothing to that," will the True Man say. "For in this place, only you have voice."
"And yet ear have I as well," I will remind him. "And thus can hear that which you do not speak."
The True Man will drop to his knees, then. Wailing against the uncomfortable nature of ergonomics, he will crash his fists upon the earth which bears my name. From these impacts will rumble forth the treasures of all peoples, and we shall be overcome by a sea of things that shine, family reborn, and knowledge everlasting.
In this wave will I plant my feet and spread my arms. It is then that I will be in all times, and all places, for all times are all places.
And then the Omnitemporal Logging industry will cut me down. So please, write your representatives and tell them to save the Omnitempotal Forests That Are Actually M. McGregor Having Transcended Into Some Kind Of Magical Tree Metaphor That May Or May Not Know Everything by saying no to special interest groups and lobbyists.
Thank you.
This is all my way of saying, "I think I need to write more Sights Unseed, because the crazy inside of me, she is clamoring to be released."