... but I stopped. Now I'm a dad, and may blog again...

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

145: Typing and Writing, but not saying anything... oops the world ended, sorry

My brain went wrong just now and I couldn’t convince myself to believe it was Tuesday.  I thought I must have blanked out for a couple of days and forgot to write the blog.  I just couldn’t get the knowledge it is Tuesday to balance with my misperception of reality.  The last two days must have dragged for a week, and tomorrow is my Friday day; what’s with that?  Anyway, that’s not very interesting for all y’all, but what are you going to do about it?  Please address all complaints to the management, and then force feed them to the nearest innocent bystander.

In the meantime, while you are scribbling your thoughts in pencil crayon on a used tissue, I’ll be hammering away on my antique Blickensderfer 5 upon raw sheets of the finest parchment vellum.  I feel thirsty so I uncork a Jeroboam of Krug and swig greedily, mopping the dribble from my chin with a stuffed panda paw.  Feeling peckish so I nibble on a piece of finest aged Pharaoh Jerky, stripped from the shin bone of the boy king Tutankhamun.  Ah, this is what living is all about isn’t it.

My words bring about the return of the ancient god Enlin to Dilmun the home of the gods, and as Enlin retakes his seat upon the bones of all slaughtered unbelievers, so to shall I rise up bodily into the sky where, for four score and ten, I shall rain brimstone down upon all who have wrong me and all who bestow upon me menial tasks for minimum wage.  After that I’m sure I’ll probably be needing a brew so be a ducky and pop the kettle on.

The lid of the kettle isn’t quite pushed on properly so the thermostat does not automatically switch off at boiling point.  The water heats past a hundred and keeps climbing, the molecules of h2o and added impurities break free from one another and leap around agitated and energised.  As chaos within the kettle increases so too does chaos external to the cosy confines of planet Earth.  The cosmos breaks down revealing ragged tears across spacetime, infinity bleeds into finity and the recognisable directions twist back upon themselves into tight Moebius strips, choking you and destroying all that is perceivable by naturally evolved synapses.

Planet Earth sits alone and devastated in a vacuumless void stretching from pole to pole but not beyond and not back again.  All individual distinction has disintegrated, and all consciousness has integrated into one amorphous liquid of thinking, communicating brain cells.  From this liquid comes a thought, let there be light but alas, without stars or technology or even hands and arms, there was no light.  There was no observer to tell the tale, and no present or future.  As time was no longer in existence, all events occurred simultaneously in a singularity; all future events from creation to destruction happened now, and nothing is left for the future.

That cup of tea sits untouched but can never cool down or evaporate, and this blog post may never end.  Even worse it may never begin.

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