Friday, January 22, 2016

The Hyerarkhycal Expanse

Subdude, unclear
A work of fact, a matter of fiction
Preschool colours
When I see a problem, something
wrong, I do something about it,
like how the liberals in this
country are destroying everything
just about as fast as the conservatives
can rebuild it. See something
say somethings only a good policy
if you know who to talk to, and
thats completely contextual, and
relatively based on who youre actually
talking to, if anyone specific.
If it is of your mind to turn a
profit then you better stop reading
right now. If you desire to be
offended absorbed educated
or entertained then be quite
sure that you understand the
difference. I believe in you because
I have no choice beyond feeling
my own existence, where all good
ideas are already had and
plans are only of and for the future.
The Camera is a dotted line

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

SELF ANALYSIS FOR PROJECTED PROGRESS

1. What is your name?

2. Do you remember your childhood?

3. What is your favourite thing to do?

4. Do you regret getting out of bed this morning?

5. Where will you be tomorrow/5 yrs. from now?

6. How do you feel about this procedure compared to when you first heard of the program?

7. What do you want to do with the things you learn here?

8. Do you plan on continuing your education after this course?

9. What's the best way for you to learn something?

10. How much do you know about this subject?

11. What would you have liked to have accomplished at the end of this course?
(as if the course was freshly completed)

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

OUTSKIRTS

LOOKING BACK NOW, I'm not sure if we were leaving or driving in. I saw a solid set of lights and knew that it meant that this was happening right now. The sky was dark and grey and we were traveling on a straight line.
"Do you want to watch this or go back to the movie? That way I would have time for a nap." I knew she wanted to get some sleep because she was expecting company this afternoon even though it didn't look very nice out. The movie was fine I said, so she flipped it to a room within a room, the interior brightly lit and bustling with employees all minding their own business for a certain cause, a sort of split-level executive suite, and I knew I was not invited.
A robotic arm reached in through off-screen and ripped my fingernail out just above the kneecap. My skin and tendons began churning and receding and I thought out loud, "how is this ever supposed to heal?" She laughed like I was trying to be funny. The other one climbed my arm. The exposed flesh turned into a manuscript and fell out. She said no. I saw he was going for a bug and I said Get 'im. Then I recognized it, against the now extremely well lit walls, to be a Death's Heads Moth that was focused on me and my attention. The Cinnabites were here, in a form that I found myself having to explain. The flutter of wings followed me into the shadows where I found myself in recollection, pain, and fear, for the thing had almost followed me here.