KingLuscious.com

I looked at the wrong thing just now. I knew full well what I was getting into though. I made all the decisions. They were the wrong ones it would seem.

I read the words. Painful. Well, I didn’t read the word “painful”. What I read was painful to me. But probably not to anyone else on this planet. That makes those words uniquely mine don’t you think?

I did not write the words, but I still feel like I own them.

I wrote these words. But I don’t really want them. You can have them if you’d like. They kind of make me sick. Physically ill actually.

Imagine running through a forest while blindfolded. Sprinting as fast as your legs will carry you. Sweat streaming from your face and stinging your eyes as it soaks into the handkerchief covering them. Spindly branches lashing across your face as you narrowly miss trunk after trunk. Imagine coming out the other side unscathed.

Remembering the past is stupid. The future. That’s where its at. Who will I know? Who will I be? Most of all, will my friends still remember me.

Right here (I’m pointing to a location on my person) is where it hurts. But it spreads to here and here.

Real superheroes would probably kill more people than they do in the comics and movies. Perhaps they’d execute criminals, but also there would be a lot of collateral damage to bystanders. That would be very sad.

At some point, the fun starts right? I mean, it can’t all be like this. What would be the point? Surely there is something people have neglected to mention to me. A secret rule or guideline that becomes evident at some juncture and everything one eighties. Probably not though.

If I close my eyes and type, I don’t seem to make very many mistakes. <- See?

I could be typing this naked. Then I would have my eyes closed for sure. I’m not typing this naked though. You’ll just have to take my word for that one though. Unless that sound I heard outside was you and you’re peering through my window right now.

I need to take a shower.

My routine is broken. The days are all weird now. Night comes too late and sleep even later.

Should have zigged when I zagged. Too bad there aren’t reverse time capsules. I would bury it in one of my past yards right now for my adolescent self to find. Then we’d see what’s what.

I don’t think of doing it as often anymore. But when I do, its a lot stronger and a lot harder to ignore. Small, constant doses before. Now concentrated bursts.

I typed this with one eye closed. That isn’t very impressive though.

Get in. Get out. This ship is going under.

I should write a novel. Or a novella. I could come up with characters for it. They could engage in some sort of conflict. Not a war though. Write what you know. I don’t know anything about war. I don’t know what I know about. When I figure it out, then I’ll write my novella. Then a prequel. But that will be a graphic novella. With terrible art.

Sometimes, if I lie, or lay, down for too long and then stand up very quickly, I fall. Darkness encroaches on my vision. I ring of black constricts my sight. I become weightless. I fall. I don’t feel the impact. It is pretty neat.

Sometimes, if I lie, I get caught. Other times I don’t. I do not like getting caught, so I try to keep my lies to myself. I tell them to myself. Then I call myself on it. I’m a dick.

What is inherently bad about a dick that it is an insult to be called one. Or a pussy for that matter. Seems to me those things are fairly value neutral.

Contractions make words shorter. They also have to do with having a baby. That is weird.

On Star Trek: The Next Generation there was an android named Data. He was unable to use contractions because he was not programmed to. It may have been annoying to write for a character that couldn’t use contractions because the fans of that show are the sort who would go over all lines of dialog hoping to find a slip up. Those guys are dicks. Or pussies.

Light exhibits the properties of both a wave and a particle. It is like light is living a double life.

I’m pretty sure I don’t exhibit the properties of either a wave or a particle. Just another in a long list of reasons light is better than I am.

Anyway, one day I’m going to grow a goatee. Actually, I guess I have a goatee right now. Its just that there’s all this other hair around it. If I were to shave a goatee pattern on my face right now, it would be kind of like a sculptor chiseling a form out of marble. The goatee is already there, I just have to chip away the parts that aren’t it.

If I could choose my parents, I know exactly who I’d pick.

You pretty much only get to choose your friends. You can’t choose your family. You can’t even really choose your acquaintances because those are people you just happen into every now and again. Can’t avoid them if you don’t know where they’re going to be.

You can choose your pets I guess.

There’s still a chance. I have to think there is. The alternative is grizzly.

I think that no matter how fast I was falling, I’d want to fall a little faster.

Good night.

-kingluscious.

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 13th, 2008 at 3:32 am and is filed under Who Cares. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.