A Planned Incandescent Defeat of the Night at Dark in May
A cockroach just came up and nuzzled all up ons my toes so I yelled at it. I said, "YOU DO NOT DO THAT." And I made it so just with the power of either suggestion or belief, or maybe of the physical communication, since the cockroach probably could not hear me. But cockroaches communicate with minds stored in between the usual planes of existence, which would explain their ability to reason (which I and other observant people have witnessed) with little more than a central nerve bundle.
PAINE (Prolonged And Intense Neon Exposure) Woe for Snake and Doctor, for though Doctor dreams of escape, he wakes to the true dream of imprisonment. And though I dream of Snake and Doctor, I am as yet still unsure if it is my survival that sustains the dreaming or if it is the dreaming that sustains my survival, or both, or which is the dream, or whether the survival impedes the dreaming, or whether the dreaming makes survival that much more difficult. It is a dilemma, my friends, but only because each answer would only prove more confusing than the other if in fact believed to be an answer at all. In other news, I like to stack bowls on top of things. Not dirty bowls, that's gross. But a tower of random objects topped with a bowl is just so aesthetically pleasing.
----ignore the following----
Working under these conditions is dismal. What little jijindu I come across is diluted and though the rain is clean, it is seen by most as an excuse to hide their devious chemical outpourings in the downpour. Results of head-conversations about lion dreams are not forthcoming. What ideas come are eaten by a waiting gargoyle and poured out in an endless stream towards close groupings of atoms bent on the early cessation of gargoyle-vomit travels. This could be a metaphor, and probably is, for something wholly unexpected by its creator at the time of its creation, but that very point is probably why I can't figure it out, and I am also distracted by the fact that you're still reading this when I told you to ignore it. While we're on the subject of you, why don't you tell me why you recently had trouble following instructions in getting to Solla Sollew?
PAINE (Prolonged And Intense Neon Exposure) Woe for Snake and Doctor, for though Doctor dreams of escape, he wakes to the true dream of imprisonment. And though I dream of Snake and Doctor, I am as yet still unsure if it is my survival that sustains the dreaming or if it is the dreaming that sustains my survival, or both, or which is the dream, or whether the survival impedes the dreaming, or whether the dreaming makes survival that much more difficult. It is a dilemma, my friends, but only because each answer would only prove more confusing than the other if in fact believed to be an answer at all. In other news, I like to stack bowls on top of things. Not dirty bowls, that's gross. But a tower of random objects topped with a bowl is just so aesthetically pleasing.
----ignore the following----
Working under these conditions is dismal. What little jijindu I come across is diluted and though the rain is clean, it is seen by most as an excuse to hide their devious chemical outpourings in the downpour. Results of head-conversations about lion dreams are not forthcoming. What ideas come are eaten by a waiting gargoyle and poured out in an endless stream towards close groupings of atoms bent on the early cessation of gargoyle-vomit travels. This could be a metaphor, and probably is, for something wholly unexpected by its creator at the time of its creation, but that very point is probably why I can't figure it out, and I am also distracted by the fact that you're still reading this when I told you to ignore it. While we're on the subject of you, why don't you tell me why you recently had trouble following instructions in getting to Solla Sollew?