shhhhhhhhhhh. h.

Going for the jugular works quite well if you're a tiger or a bear or some such animal. But if you're a mosquito, it's best to steer clear of the whole neck area; it's very sensitive, and landing there will most likely get you swatted to death before you can do any real damage.

As a mosquito, you'll want to proceed thusly; pick up a nice, horrible disease, and go for an out of the way, hard to reach spot like the big toe. Take a great big drink and make sure there's a lot of backwash.

It's not as instantly gratifying as ripping out a throat, but be sure to revel in your rival's slow, painful death.

The fortune cookie says i love life

I don't recall ever wearing make up- save for a few smudged bits of lipstick every now and again- but i imagine that after a number of years of habitually wearing it, you'd be able to apply it, with some degree of success, without the aid of a mirror. No one does that of course, because mirrors are plentiful.

But one day mirrors disappear. I can't explain why anymore than i can explain why otherwise sane people paint their faces. But they disappear. Then make up must go on by feel, by memory, with peers providing the only assurance that it has been applied correctly. Across time there will be creep in what is conceived of as "correct" application. That is a shift in culture, and it occurs with or without mirrors. Is it more or less drastic without mirrors?

Then perhaps there are no peers. There is no assurance that make up has been correctly applied. Does the use of make up cease? Or does use continue via the the memory of the motions that once constituted "correct" application. In either case, does culture exist? If it does, does it shift more or less rapidly?

Do the same conclusions hold in other areas- say, the wearing of vests? The annual hanging of stockings? Taking in dinner and a movie? Reading this?

When this replaces prayer- and it will- it will have outlived its usefulness.

My eyes aren't glazed over. I'm sentient, sharp and clear. I'm not happy, but I am angry. And Frankly, that speaks more to my being alive.

If there's a way to my heart it's through my head, cause my stomach won't get fooled again

I'm really starting to show my age, and I'm worried about it, so I go to my doctor. "Doctor," I says, "I'm worried that I look way too old for my age. Is there something, maybe, you can do about all these lines on my face?" And he says, all concerned like, "But- those aren't wrinkles... it almost looks like the imprint of a brick wall..." And I says, "well, yeah, that's exactly what is it." And he's like "Well for starters, stop banging your head against the wall." And I’m all, "I wasn't! I was just talking to it! It hit me!" And the doctor says "Maybe you should see a specialist." And I think he's right.

The internet has a word for everything

ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahaha! *Wheew*!

Toe Chi

I think my right index toe may be broken. But never you mind, don't worry about it. It hurts like hell any time i put any weight on it. But I'll live, and in the grand scheme of things it is, after all, just a right index toe. From limping around for two days, my calf muscle is starting to get sore too. But without a doubt there are bigger, more pressing problems that need to be addressed. I advise you to go right ahead and take care of them, but don't expect me to keep up, because my fucking toe hurts.

Assuming time exists,

There are two times at which you can be certain I am writing: when I am learning, and when i am avoiding learning. I do my best writing when I'm learning while trying to avoid learning. When I am neither learning nor avoiding learning, I am asleep.