The Devil Made Me Do It... With Macros

I recently read a rather interesting proposition to the GOD question we mortals seem interminably obsessed with it. It's called, "The Simulation Theory."

The gist of this preposterous nonsense is that we are all living in a computer simulation, and Big Daddy G is nothing more than an infinite programmer. You know, kind of like the movie Tron.

What a vapidly mundane premise! If this is a feasible explanation to dignify our existence (no less ridiculous than all the other religions, mind you) then I still contend that "God" is a super huge dickhead.
This malicious computer programmer overlord has bedeviled us with such atrocities as: Nicki Minaj, Bret Michaels, Duck Dynasty, and June bugs. Not to mention war, famine, disease, and death but who's counting evils? Not me.

If you really think about it, no matter what theory you want to propose to rationalize your existence, all attempts to portray an otherworldly deity fall prey to human concepts. The reason for this is that you are human. Allow me to extend my most grave and abundant apologies to those disobliged by such an astute proclamation, however, you cannot circumvent reality.

Your thought patterns and mental faculties are subject to the limitations of your culturally biased awareness-- the absolute accumulation of your perception-- which demands that every single intellection you devise to contrive a conception outside of the scope of your comprehension is going to bear the mark of humanity.

Attempt to consider any of the forms of god that we have developed over the course of our evolution.

All of the gods depicted in religious contexts have human attributes. They are either angry, or jealous, or loving. They bear the physical appearances of human or animal forms. The paradises associated with these gods are also human-like, so are the punishment zones, i.e. Hell. (Fire and brimstone. Seriously?)
Ah... we are such an imaginative group of life forms, are we not?

That, therein, lies the problem. One can contrive any number of ways to elucidate an acceptable theory to rationalize that which cannot be rationalized: GOD.
Theorists and theologians have, thus far, grossly overlooked the fact that this planet, with all of our elementary humanness upon it, is but one planet amid an incalculable number of boulders, all floating in a void so astonishingly tremendous, we cannot even begin to fathom the depths. Why are we so gullible and egocentric to believe that our gods are only like just us, we- the petty simple humans- on this one rock?
This is our true sin.

Every religion is wrong. It doesn't matter what you believe because the divinely fortunate fact is that you are wrong and I am wrong. We are all wrong. There is no apocryphal simulation program, there is no heaven and hell or any version of it. There is nothing but everything that we will never understand until we expire from this life.
Endeavors to do so until that moment are a waste of time, a facilitator to war, and a notable measure of ignorance and vanity.

Dividng By Zero

"Once we realize that imperfect understanding is the human condition there is no shame in being wrong, only in failing to correct our mistakes." --George Soros

(I am a human without favorites. I've often been annoyed when asked what my favorite (insert 'thing' here) is, because I attempt to appreciate many aspects of life instead of basing a preferential desire for one object or experience over another. However, if I had to choose a favorite Superhero, I would pick George Soros.)

I admire the aforementioned quote because of its stark brutal truth. The fact is that many people are insane. By that understanding, I mean they repetitively act in the same fashion but expect a different result. I, myself, was once insane by this definition until I accepted that my awareness is finite.
My experiential capacity is finite, as is yours and all carbon based life forms.

We all die.

I've been experiencing the deaths of many in recent times and it is a simple reminder of how astonishingly beautiful life "should" be.... but isn't always. Life can be particularly troublesome with the wrong frame of thought patterns ping-ponging their course through your mind and life; usually as a subset to errant and erroneous action, thought, behavior, etc. Simply put, our own idiocy creates complexity and the subconscious acceptance of inappropriate contentment gives birth to malaise.

What if I told you that everything wrong with your life is your own fault?

I believe some would agree... others would not and form a multitude of pithy excuses which habitually blame others for their independent complications. It's natural to do so because it is easier to blame another for what you lack as a temporal being rather than bear such weighty responsibilities for concepts like your own personal happiness and self-fulfillment. Rather than taking relevant action to correct an ill course of life experiences, humans typically sit in stasis and point the finger at every one else as a reasonable explanation to justify their own misery.

And maybe others do bear some responsibility for your discourse. Perhaps your parents didn't love you enough, or your second grade teacher was a bitch. Maybe your older sister/brother was a real asshole to you, or you got bullied on the playground; your boss doesn't give you any respect and your dog ran away. I can't pretend to know the causation of malady in anyone's life but my point is that, with great compassion: essentially, it doesn't matter.

By now you know right from wrong. Each person in possession of the ability to visualize a scenario, dream, wish, or desire is fully able to achieve that scenario, dream, wish or desire. The only thing stopping you from being happy, successful, achieved and content in your life is you. Stop making the same mistakes, stop repeating your dysfunctional behavior, and stop feeling sorry for yourself. It will get you nowhere. Stop expecting others to pity you, it only holds you in place as your emotional vampirism sucks the life out of those who truly do sympathize.

If you are miserable then you want to be. Humans eventually attain that which they seek. So, the mental, social, emotional and physical condition you remain in during the course of your life is the state of being that you wish to possess.

Something From Nothing

Something from nothing.

The ultimate paradox of creation, in my opinion. How can you get something from nothing? Within the confines of our own socially (and loose I might add) defined levels of comprehension, this is an impossibility. It's a basic reason the faithful possess for believing in a god, and also a fundamental concept atheists associate with for not believing in a god.

If a god doesn't exist then where did everything come from? How did the life forms, the planet, the universe etc. form if there was not a creator that made it? There must be a god.

If life forms, the planet, the universe etc. needed to be created because they could not have formed on their own, then who created the creator? What made god? How could god be the creator of everything when nothing created god.

It's all bullshit when you get right down to it, and I'll tell you why.

Humans are limited. Human perception is limited. Human comprehension is so vastly limited it's appropriately comparable to one grain of sand to every atom in the universe. Every conceptualized and relatively applied understanding we have for anything we believe we understand was never born from the depths of our subconscious, it was given to us a proxy from the adaption of collective human awareness.

There have been very few original innovators throughout our history, but they have existed. The cavemen who developed the additional brain cells needed to want a better life for him or herself and first realized friction creates fire was an innovator. Whatever Mesopotamian mastermind was sitting around one day and saw a clay pot rolling off a staircase, or whatever happened, so they invented wheel- they were an innovator. If you ever take time from your busy life of doing nothing to educate yourself about the greatest minds throughout time, you will find ORIGINAL minds and ideas. Fathers and mothers of evolved human thought patterns. Chances are good the majority of the population doesn't know about any of them. But I bet they know who Brad Pitt is. Or George Bush, or Britney Spears. In fact I'm fairly certain that ALL over the world the vast majority of human awareness will associate the two golden arches symbol to the Mecca of fast food death machines known as McDonald's. Show them a picture of Nikola Tesla and they might ask you if that's a photo of your great great uncle.

Most basic and advanced creations that were the basis for the birth of new and original thought processes were never original to begin with, they were contemplated, defined, redefined, altered and ultimately shared to form "originality" for which the rest of a fickle society accepts and adapts to.

The sad fact about human knowledge rests upon one unfortunate and encompassing condition- People are ignorant. Not lacking the CAPABILITY to exercise the limits of the mind and continually expand their boundaries for comprehension in order to form original thoughts, but simply too lazy to try. Why bother? Thinking is so hard, isn't it? So much easier when you allow the totality of everything around you to do your thinking for you. The limitations of human consciousness are that we attribute original thought in regards to creation, to human born associations.

Heaven is a golden streeted paradise, there are mansions, god sits on a throne, Allah gives you virgins, hell is full of fire and has a lake, etc. These are all HUMAN concepts. Mental visuals designed to form a bond between what you relate to in order to feed the collective ego and subside the collective fear of not being important enough to have an awareness that is eternal. None of it is original, and none of it provides a realistic and intelligent possibility for the potential continuation of consciousness.

Every book that teaches you about a religion, is only that- a book. Written by humans, edited by humans, translated by humans, and interpreted by pompous egotistical humans with personal gain (usually political) as a forerunner of intention. None of these BOOKS were written by a creative force responsible for reality and they shouldn't be taken seriously. But the remarkable weakness and laziness of the mind that is so frightened by the confines of their media fed brain adapt and cling to this insane possibility that there really IS a heaven and a hell and a loving father man sitting on his potty throne with the cherubs hovering nearby playing harps while angels with giant beautiful wings live in ultimate bliss and peace. Most Christians believe this will be their eternal paradise. Only it's a pity they've never actually studied the bible enough to know this visual image they believe as their reality is complete nonsense, adapted through time to fit the needs of every flighty society it was changed for. The bible describes angels as horrific looking creatures. Some appeared to be giant metallic wheels studded with eyeballs, others were so terrifying that just to gaze upon them you would be completely incinerated. Our understanding of angels was created by poets, sculptors, and painters during the Renaissance period. Not the bible, and not "reality" according to their own religion, yet they believe it anyway, because people are intentionally ignorant and they allow themselves to be so. It's a willful choice, but even the most sane and devout of followers have that small voice in the back of their minds, which IS their mind calling out to them, trying to clue them in to what truly is real: That they're wrong. And so, they form a blanket of faith to satiate the fear of being wrong, which afford them the continuation of ignorance. It's safer to be a sheep than lead the flock.

With that understanding in mind, why it has been necessary to contain your concepts of comprehension for an afterlife within the lines of what the world around you is capable of creating an association with, is beyond me.

I can accept that there is no loving sky daddy protecting me from evil, because a simple glance at the totality of human suffering tells me this is not true. I'm an atheist who doesn't believe in the validity of books written by gainful humans and will not accept the definitions of a constrained and fearful society who must apply human concepts into what is not flesh and bone or material construction and has adapted precious little originality into the framework of existential concepts.

I am at peace with the potential that upon death awareness ceases to exist. I am also at peace with the potential that it does not cease to exist because I know, very well, that the potentials of both circumstances do not rely on the demands of ONE possibility flowing from a single source. Whatever lies beyond this realm of our limited understanding, is incomprehensible and indefinable and the limitations of ability for reasoning outside of human associations, make it reprehensible that we attempt to explain that which we have no ability to know.

A Momentary Lapse of "Reason"

I haven't felt like writing anything in a very long time. Writing is an outlet, an exposition of one moment or a series of moments that you're contriving for someone else, or maybe your own self at a later date- in which case you will fall into the first classification previously mentioned, anyway.

I suppose when you are in the process of mental brewing and preparation then it's difficult to release anything out of the channels in the mind. Things are still flowing in, building up and growing larger... like a fat little squirrel stockpiling nuts before the cold winter so it has enough to survive...... The squirrel can't very well start giving nuts to the other squirrels, now can it? It needs what it has for itself.

That's what I've been doing, collecting nuts.



I've said before, that no one ever really knows anyone, and it's true. We don't really even know ourselves as well as we think. The subconscious mind prevents information access, creating a lag in understanding for what we think we perceive and the actual depth of what our minds are really capable of comprehending in any one given second, but-- we are constantly surrounded by stimuli. So much that we are nearly desensitized to the continual onslaught of attention grabbing visual and auditory distractions. Stillness feels unnatural during the rare moments we allow ourselves to experience it.

Typical awareness becomes a sluggish meter of the presumed ignorant. I've never thought most people were as unintelligent as they seemed, rather more so that they were simply unaware and mentally undisciplined.

People never explore their mental limits, never pushing the boundaries of the mind to anything greater than an overgrown slug, and most do have the intellectual awareness of your average garden slug. It's easier and lazier to succumb to the perpetual distractions that surround you so you can be mindless cattle, herded daily by Farmer Media. In the midst of the average human's muddled clarity, they're forming an existence filled with substitutes for substantial meaning. We embrace chaos and disregard peace.

We never allow ourselves stillness, can't stand the silence if it means we're alone with only ourselves. Maybe it's too reminiscent of the upcoming grave...

Maybe the answers to truly feeling happy and fulfilled in life are in that stillness, rather than in objects, and other humans-- all the fillers occupying what could be tranquil and keeping you in the fog, rooted to those things....rooted to them.

If you examine all the components of your life and you personally define each and every aspect of it that has TRUE meaning, what are you left with? I don't mean your excitement that a new episode of (insert your favorite distraction here) is about to come up, or the fact that you like to bake chocolate chip cookies on the weekends, and I also don't mean what you get from other humans. Other humans are very important in the course of one's life, but each individual is a unique-- and isolated-- entity. Humans are fillers. What remains? What have you created within your existence, around the ceaseless chaos, that has actual real meaning?

Dreams

I'm one of those people who either hardly ever dreams, or never remembers the dream. Except last night.... now I prefer nightmares oddly enough, because they tend to be more memorable. I will never forget the dream I had a few years ago where my brother and I got lost on a deserted highway and kidnapped by Carnie folk who were breeding these black gelatinous creatures under their house. They fed Taylor to one of the monsters and some dude tried to rip my nipple off while screaming "Give me those rubber titties!" in my face. THAT was a memorable dream.

Last night's dream might have been slightly more disturbing, but mostly because in the dream land, I wasn't really bothered by anything that happened- that should have bothered me.

I was working in a church, which didn't look like a church but more like a theater of some sort. The walls were lined with thick red curtains and the front of the room had a large black stage. What bothered me about this place was that it was the same room that I had the nightmare about my father in, the day after his funeral. In that dream his funeral was taking place there and his coffin was on the stage. People were sitting in the built in chairs like they were about to watch a movie, only it was just him. I took a seat to the left of the room and started cry. I felt like none of it was real, that it was just a joke and he really wasn't dead. When I looked up to the stage at his body in the coffin I thought I saw his chest rise and fall and I felt so happy that I was right and he was actually alive. I started to get up... and his head started twisting slowly to the side to look back at me where I was sitting.

The head turned so far back it was completely unnatural and horrific. His eyes were closed and I could see dark purple veins under the skin... I was starting to feel the terror when his eyes suddenly burst open. They were the eyes of a demon, bright red with slanted black pupils. He started laughing, at first his normal laugh which morphed into this deep guttural growling. He put one of his hands on the edge of the coffin and started to climb out. The speed with which he moved made it seem as if one moment he was still in the coffin, and the next he was standing in front of me. Only it wasn't him anymore, he had become some kind of demonic creature. His mouth was stretched open and he had multiple levels of sharp pointed teeth. Small tags of decaying flesh were encrusted in between the fangs and he was drooling some opaque substance that was eating holes into the fabric of the seat in front of me. I started to scream, and then I woke up-screaming.

Anyway, back to last night. I was in this theater/church again, working there. No demon-dad present, but there were religious ceremonies taking place. A group of priests came on to the stage carrying a large wooden cross and a pulpit while I walked up and down the aisles with a push broom, sweeping up dust. I looked down at the pile I had collected, only it wasn't dust anymore, it looked like twinkling stars instead.

I had an understanding in the dream that terrible things were happening during these ceremonies. Some kind of large big foot type of creature was ravaging the place and eating the people who came. It had happened before and it was going to happen again, I knew this.

After everyone had gathered and taken their seats, I chained the doors in the back to keep this creature out and I felt like I was wasting my time because I knew it was coming and nothing could stop it. This didn't bother me, it only irritated me because I was going to have to clean up the mess. I stood at the back of the room with my push broom while the priests started to light candles on the stage.

The parishioners began to sing some haunting garish parody of Amazing Grace only the melody was all wrong, and their voices sounded like a bunch of creepy undead children. They were waving their hands through the air like typical church fanatics, when the thing came. It ripped through the red curtains and into the room. The bigfoot creature was actually enormous, towering over the seated guests and as he extended one of his meaty fists into an aisle to snatch one of them up I realized that somehow, no one else had noticed this yet, except for me.

I watched the creature put the squealing human head into his mouth while pulling on the man's torso, ripping his head from his body. I could see the shredding neck flesh stretch out from the body while the arms still flailed and his feet were paddling through the air like he was trying to swim. I wasn't afraid or upset, I was actually getting mad.

Everyone else started noticing what was happening and chaos began, people were screaming and climbing over each other to get out. The priests ran down from the stage with the cross to try and stop the bigfoot thing and I noticed how dirty everyone was. That was when I began to feel the fury in the dream. I stomped down the aisle with the broom, pissed, and shouted at some woman who literally had mud dripping off her clothes, her hair was clumped and like Pig Pen from Charlie Brown, a dust cloud was following her everywhere she went. "Look at you!" I screamed at her, everyone else around me was running around trying to escape the monster, "I'm the one who has to fucking clean around here, not YOU!" and I pushed her down on the floor. Somehow, out of nowhere, there was a stream on the side of the room. It wasn't there before. I went to the stream and filled a pail (don't know where the pail came from) with the water from the stream, I took it to the woman on the floor and dumped it on her.

I saw that a crowd had formed at the back of the room where several of the group members were trying to get out of the doors that I had previously chained. I was going to unlock it for them, but I managed to drop my keys in the stream when I was filling the pail. When I looked back towards the stage, the bigfoot thing was still there, eating and murdering the screaming church people. He had a small woman dangling out of his mouth and was squishing another one in his gigantic hand. Like a puffy marshmallow, the woman's body oozed from between his hairy fingers and chunks of her mangled flesh puddled to the floor.

I looked around at the carnage and realized how much work there was going to be for me and I grabbed the handle of the broom and snapped it over my knee. "That's it I quit! You clean this up you selfish fuck!" I threw the broken handle down on the floor and the bigfoot thing stopped his murdering to look at me. He flung his hand outwardly, slinging the crushed woman parts against the wall and held his hand out towards me showing me the gummy mess, as if to say, "Look what I have to deal with!"

I went to the edge of the floor where the stream began and grabbed a wooden platform that was sitting next to it. I saw that at the front of the room near the stage, the wall was cut away and I could see the woods outside where the stream lead. I got into the water and sat on the platform and I noticed the bigfoot thing was standing next to me. "Well come on if you're coming goddamnit!" I said to it, and started to float towards the opening that would lead me outside. I looked into the room as I drifted past it, most of the people were dead or simply gone, presumably eaten by my new friend who was walking in the stream behind me, following me.

As I floated along the stream with the creature behind me, I felt no fear. Only elation and peace that I was done with that insanity in the theater/church.


Well ..... that was it, then I woke up. I won't even try to analyze this dream, I don't know if the nonsense in one's mind that manifests in the dream world means anything or not. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. If it means something, then I suppose this means I'm completely insane, and somehow.... I'm ok with that.

FAITH

With the last vestige of PMS induced bitterness and antagonism coursing through my system, I thought Easter would be the perfect day to produce this little treasure of bitchery on one of my favorite topics- FAITH.

All too often I have heard religious automatons droning on about how they don't need to hear about such silly topics as "truth", "facts", and "reality" because they have something better than that.

They have FAITH.

Faith is a comforting notion to religious people, it allows them to discard actuality in favor of realism and remain steadfast on the path of ignorance, but I'll get to that in a minute.

If you notice, most Christians resort to prayer when they want to beg petty favors from god because things aren't quite going as well as they planned in life and they're scared and unhappy. They want a better car, and they want a bigger house and more money. Their kids are acting like douches and they think their spouse may be cheating.
Every now and then they'll throw in a few for a neighbor or friend and thus begins the process of bartering with the lord for their demands. Gimme this, gimme that. I want. And if you give it to me, I'll be a better person, God! I'll throw an extra $20 in the offering plate this Sunday and I'll stop excessively masturbating, why.... I'll even help an old lady cross the street if you do this for me. Me! Me! Me! and don't forget to Bless me while you're at it!

Personally, if I was God I would have flooded this planet ages ago just to be done with their endless whining.

When a Christian prays, they find comfort and peace in the non-action and the reason they feel this is because they have faith. They believe that their god will take care of them and do what is best for them, which is of course, whatever they want him to do- hence the prayers.
They have faith that because THEY are faithful to him, he will always be there and love them forever and ever, no matter how many shitty things they do and have done, and that when they kick it they're going to an everlasting paradise with mansions and gold streets and they'll finally get to see Big G sitting on his potty throne with Jesus. Everyone will be happy and no one will ever need anything and it will be like an eternal orgasm that will never stop. Yipee!

Christians know all about it because their bible states it and they have FAITH. "The bible says it, I believe it! I. Have. FAITH."

Faith is an unwavering belief. Like silent knowledge on the wings of absolute certainty, flying through your heaven bound soul and you know, you just know.... and you need know nothing else because you have faith.


Let us assume, for the briefest of moments, that Farmer John down the road also has faith. Blind comforting sheep's faith and he knows something too. He knows that if he performs the action of flapping his wings like a bird in the spot he marked with an X in his front yard everyday at noon for six months that he will have the power to climb on his roof, sprout wings out of his shoulder blades and fly through the brilliant blue sky. He KNOWS this will happen because he has faith! His family and friends and have all told him he's nuts, he isn't going to fly, but he doesn't listen to them, he doesn't need to. He has enough faith to know with complete assuredness that he is, indeed, going to sprout wings and fly.

Six months later Farmer John climbs to the top of his roof and he is overjoyed. He has performed the specified action faithfully, and he feels the power of that faith coursing through his soul. He knows that he is about to take flight so he takes a deep breath and a big leap of faith off the roof prepared to soar gloriously through the air like a happy hummingbird.....

What do you think is going to happen to Farmer John? He has faith that he will fly, he knows this, HE HAS FAITH!

Let me inform you of what happens next in this scenario: Farmer John takes the leap, gets three inches of airtime, and goes smashing into the yard, snapping his spine, breaking his neck and a couple of his broken ribs go splintering into a few vital organs. He dies.

That, my friends, is faith.

The preposterous notion that something will happen for no logical reason whatsoever. It is willful ignorance and insanity for fearful weak minds who are too lazy and irresponsible to take personal accountability for the course of their own lives. Morons turn to faith like frightened monkeys. They cling to faith in the face of reality because reality is too scary if it might mean they could have been wrong, or that something isn't going to go their way. They hide under the blanket of their faith like little children do when they're hiding from the boogeyman under the bed.

And like a junkie needing a fix, faith is the Christians drug of choice.

It's still a crutch and it is highly addictive. Faith destroys the logical thought process in the human mind, it halts evolution and personal growth because it boxes it's junkies into a narrowly confined realm of delusion, with NO room for progression and movement.
The bible tells you to have faith when you are faced with uncertainty and things you don't understand, like something that may clue your mindless airy head into the reality that you're being a fool by believing this nonsense in the first place.

Don't question! Have faith! = Don't THINK! Don't use your brain!

Well.. that was fun. Happy Easter, don't forget to pray this holiday, for all your desires and demands and don't forget to enjoy communion at your local church this evening.

Cannibalism FTW! :D

There Can Be No Title For This....

I think I've been staring at these same five blue walls of my life... here in my room. But it's only been a little more than four months. If one were so inclined to write about something (and I am inclined) then logic would dictate they write what they know.

This is what I know.

A small town full nothing, expansive fields full of nothing and these blue walls, also full of nothing.

The entire concept of my "country" surroundings are almost a cliche, if I allowed it to be. Everything from the dairy farm down the road, to the isolated tree on the horizon, even the tiny blue wild flowers growing along the edges of the sidewalk can denote that atmosphere if I didn't so vehemently deny that my habitat was anything BUT boring, because I like to lie to myself. All I need now is a banjo player sitting on the front porch, humming some folk tune, "Cat's in the cradle with the silver moon, little boy blue and the dude with the spoon." I won't pretend I know the lyrics to that song, but you get the idea. Or do you? No, you probably do not....

YOU probably live in civilization, some potentially thrilling atmosphere with endless possibilities for inciting carnage and mayhem. I live in no man's land where the most exciting thing that could happen in a week is a 2 for 1 sale down at Hickman's IGA on Hog Wash; Piggleberry Punch, AND Oinkin Orange! I'm not kidding by the way, that actually is popular beverage here.

You do become de-sensitized to the hillbilly ethics over time, that much is true. I no longer giggle and point at the hicks who wander around the local gas station/movie store/fried chicken and burrito joint in their camouflage jackets, hats, and denim overalls. I'm no longer surprised to see the youth meandering about with their bottom lips puffed out from the pile of cancerous chewing tobacco stuffed in their little mouth pouches, and it's really not that shocking anymore to see a local inbred hillbilly brethren chugging a 40 oz. while driving down the highway... I mean "route", there are no highways here. No, no... you learn to just smile and nod like everyone else does.

After time all the faces begin to look the same. The hillbilly bone structure is rather unique, I've noted, and while I may joke about them being inbred, it is highly possibly considering this town has successfully remained under 800 people for the last 20 years, and they do tend to bear striking resemblances to one another. Most of them have some variation of the hillbilly snout, roundish noses, upturned at the tip that expose two, typically large, hair lined nostril holes in full view. No one here has straight hair, they're ALL curly headed, which I found a bit intriguing, and on that note, I have yet to see a natural blond here.

But as I stated, the hillbilly bone structure usually entails the round snout, high round cheekbones- ball-like even, and pointed angular chins. All of the men wear hats or caps, unless they're really old and all of the women either have short curly hair or long curly hair that they tie back into pony tails at the crowns of their squarish blocky heads. It's quite intriguing in a bizarre Twilight Zone sort of way. I plan on taking my camera with me the next time we need bread or lighter fluid and capturing a few images to demonstrate my point.

And what is my point, you ask? I don't have one. I lack a point because I live in the sticks, population 723.

There is no point anymore. :D

Rural vs. City: Reality Check

For most people used to the advantages of the modern world, the possibilities of dwelling in a country setting seem to be idyllic and charming. But is it really that splendid to escape the toils of traffic jams, nosy neighbors, and potentially polluted air and water? I thought it would be....

Buyer beware: all that glitters isn't gold.

Fantasy: Let's escape this wretched city life and move to the country! It's going to be SO peaceful. :D

Reality: Peace is all your ass is going to have. That's it. Nothing happens in the country. Ever. See that field in your back/front/side yard? Yep it's still the same, just a big ole field o' nothin! ... Wait, there's something moving.... Oh it's just a barn cat, climbing the tree.


Fantasy: Awww look at this narrow gravel road. Nothing could be more quaint than this! :p

Reality: Have fun driving down that gravel road after it snows or rains. You're gonna have loads of joy when you're smashing your head against the windshield as you're sliding off the edge into one of the boulder ridden ravines. Nevermind the destruction to your tires and suspension from the 3ft. deep pot holes.


Fantasy: OMG there's a farm!! Horses, cows and pigs, this is so scenic! I think I just had a nature-gasm! <:o

Reality: You open some windows to air out your crusty old house and get some fresh oxygen. Take a big whiff... Mmmm! Feces. NOTHING will you wake you up in the morning like the pungent aroma of fresh farm shit wafting across the breakfast table.


Fantasy: Oh wow, I can't believe we found this 111 year old behemoth five bedroom house in the middle of nowhere! This. Is. Perfection.

Reality: The bigger and older the house, the bigger and more complex the problems are that you will nightmarishly face, like bad electrical wiring, forget using a hairdryer with the light on unless you like buying a lot of fuses. Not to mention the cracks in the walls where mice can enter and frolic across your bedroom floor while you sleep, or the millions of orange ladybugs who squeeze into every crease and crevice of the woodwork in the bathroom because apparently they like toilet paper. Don't forget to check BEFORE you wipe. Picking crushed ladybug pieces out of your pubic hair isn't as exciting as it sounds.


Fantasy: There's even an outdoor wood burning furnace! We'll save SO much money on gas bills!

Reality: Oh no you won't. Prepare to spend at about $500 a month in the winter and then you better prepare your ass to go out in the freezing cold five times a day and at least once in the middle of the night to feed that beast or you will freeze because 111 year old houses have little to no insulation. Don't even think about slacking because if that fires goes out, so does your hot water. Have fun taking a shower in water the same degree as room temperature chicken skin.


Fantasy: The house's water is supplied by a well?! We have died and gone to Country Heaven. No more microbic city water for us, yay!

Reality: Have you ever drank well water? Go to your sink and get a glass of water. Now go outside, scoop up some dirt, and put it into your mouth. Take a drink, swish it around and swallow. Welcome to well water!


Fantasy: Tranquility at long last! No more busy body neighbors with their noses embedded in our anuses!

Reality: No neighbors = no witnesses. There's something to be said for safety in numbers. Go outside after the sun has set and the land is dark, and it is very very dark. The potentials of every horror movie you ever saw begin to manifest. The slight rustling of the brush becomes your inevitable slaughter at the hands of the would be psychopath lurking in the blackness, watching your every move. See those obscure shapes moving in the distance? Is it a group of mischievous dogs playing under the moonlight, or a pack of hungry coyotes eyeballing you up for dinner. How fast can you run?

I Hate Mike Myers

I need to change my home page to google so I don't have to look at anymore of yahoo's stupid news feeds.
Today's pointless (much like this blog) meanderings were:

Credit cards will fuck you over- no shit.

Obama is starting to suck- like we couldn't have seen that one coming.

A hillbilly in Ohio used a wheat farm to propose to his girlfriend- who cares?!

And then the one that made me want to tear out my eyeballs and play ping pong with them... Mike Myers.


Apparently The Forbidden One has a role in Tarantino's movie, Inglorious Basterds.
What a shame.
I'm not a huge fan of Quentin's handiwork, Eric loves his movies but I hate the soundtracks he uses. He has the worst taste in music ever so I'm never trying to purposely watch anything he does but I kind of wanted to see that one.

Now I never will. Ever.

I would rather slide down a 50 ft razor into a bin of alcohol and salt over and over again for the rest of eternity than watch even one movie with Mike Myers, even if he was only in it for 3 seconds. I would rather be infected with flesh eating parasites than watch a movie with Mike Myers in it. In fact...I would rather tear all the flesh off my bones and have someone beat my gelatinously bloody muscular skeleton with a bullwhip that had been soaked in hydrochloric acid than have to do anything that relates in any way shape or form.. to Mike Myers.

Mike Myers is an abominable plague upon this earth, rendering all of reality unjust and unwhole simply by existing.

If when I die I go to hell it will be a Mike Myers Hell.
There is nothing worse I can think of than that.

I will cross over to the other side and be dropped naked into a snarling sea of Mike Myers. The sky will be filled with infinite layers of Mike Myers and his repulsive shit eating grin. The horizon will be crammed with his body parts and the only sound I will be able to hear is that hideous evil laugh of his and it will never stop ...ever.


That will be my hell.

To My Daughters

Dear Children,


This is an important time for you. The course of the next several years will be full of changes: physically, mentally and socially. You may find yourself in difficult positions, not knowing which way to turn, but I want you to know that you will never be alone, I will always be here for you.

I want you to understand that you are going to make mistakes, but it's ok. It's normal and when you do, I want you to forgive yourself. The errors you make will help you learn and from that you will gain wisdom.

Life is too short to dwell on negativity. One can spend a lifetime berating themselves over the past, but the past can do nothing for you. It's unchangeable, that's why it's called 'history'. If you focus on your future then your present moments will be rich and worthy. Acknowledge what has been, but place your determination in what is to come.

Never forget to love yourself enough to know that you already have everything you need to be happy in life. Don't buy into the fairytale nonsense of "needing" someone else to bring meaning and purpose to your existence. You need no one but yourself, people will come and go. The ones who truly matter will stand the test of time and those who don't will fade into the background.

Let them go, and remember the good times.

Be wary of complacency when you know you can do better and don't be afraid to analyze the path you're on, but do so gently. If you don't evolve you will never be satisfied, but enjoy yourself every step of the way. You are a unique entity capable of amazing feats, no one can ever take that away from you.

Have fun whenever you can and enjoy the small things in life. Remember them. They will remain in your memories a million times more than anything that money can buy. I couldn't tell you what I got for Christmas when I was ten years old, but I'll never forget the afternoon Uncle Taylor and I spent on our bikes trying to find the end of a rainbow after a summer storm. Make as many precious moments in your life as you can, those memories will bring you peace and comfort when you need it most.

I want you to know that I am very proud of you. You are so beautiful, inside and out. I look at you everyday, growing and learning from the worlds around you, and I know that you are going to be incredible people. You have the ability to do whatever you wish in this life and I have no doubt that you will make the right choices to reach your goals and fulfill your potential.


With Love,

Mom

The Prayer Warrior

I recently had the joyous experience of attending a rather... let us just say "informal"... prayer meeting. I'm not sure any amount of money could have provided that level of entertainment, it was incredible. Now I'm sure that if you know me well, you're wondering what in the hell someone like me was doing at a prayer meeting. I'll let your imagination run with that one.... but the lengths I go to for others are truly outstanding and that's all I'm going to say about that....

At first, I had my reservations about attending the event, and I was actually furious with my companion for dragging me into that nightmare. As we stood outside in the cold waiting to enter the building I expressed this emotion. Exasperated, he sighed and leaned down to whisper in my ear "There are many unique experiences to be had in life, and this is one of them!" I just wanted to take his word for it.

When we first walked into the "sanctuary" I was completely delighted. The small cramped room was lined with eight rows of beige metal folding chairs in groups of four, compacted side to side. My mind began to wander into the molecular possibilities of inhaling so many discarded germy atoms from complete strangers in such an enclosed and intimate environment.

At the front of the room there was an elderly black man standing behind an old wooden pulpit. Beckoning to the occupants entering the door, he gestured to the seats. "Welcome! Have a seat, scoot all the way down to make room. Scoot, scoot, scoot!!" Chaos was erupting all around me as some man of unknown age began clamoring for me to sit next to him. I looked down into milky blue eyes set deep in a weather worn face, random smudges of dirt were caked into the crevices of his drooping wrinkles. His faded blonde hair was in a wild disarray of mangled knots like thin pieces of crusty straw shooting out of his sparse and peeling cranium. The dry cracked lips opened slightly to reveal a partially toothless grin as he pointed to the chair next to him. "Um, thanks", I said, trying not to catalog every disturbing facet of what I would have to endure for the next hour, sitting thigh to thigh like lovers with a man who probably hadn't bathed in over a month.

I closed my eyes in silent agony and brushed across the bedraggled worshipper, who had not scooted down, to accept his generous offering. The stinging aroma of stale dried urine assaulted my nostrils and I knew I had only a few choices at that moment. Fight my way through the crowd clogging the entrance, violently if necessary, to escape the madness, breathe through my mouth and accept the fact that I would then have his pungent stench permeating the delicate pores of my tongue, or continue inhaling as is and hope that in time I would develop some form of desensitivity to the painful scent that was raping my brain with its possibilities.

I considered those possibilities while the room overfilled with people waiting for the sermon to begin. What catastrophic flow of devastation occurred that created this forlorn soul next to me? That he was homeless was a given, and I felt a great deal of compassion for his irregularity. I could feel his gaze and without permission, my eyes wandered to meet his. "Cheesiss love you sister" he croaked with that sad toothless grin. Ah....Fate is so unkind, and here this poor unfortunate bastard sits at the bottom of the barrel of life worshipping an invisible sky pixie who reportedly dearly loves all of his followers so incredibly much.

I couldn't help but wonder what it is about religion that blinds people so completely that they can perpetually lie to themselves that they covet a loving deity. Do they even read the bible? The one which portrays God as an abusive neglectful father with a violent temper, what is this fascination for nonsense? I never have been able to figure that out, except perhaps that fear truly can be crippling.... In that moment, I thought I'd rather spend eternity in hell than be a part of the preposterous egotism and insanity that surrounds Christianity and its droning mindless followers. Fighting the urge to enlighten the grungy chump on the details of his gods so called "love", I bit my tongue. "I'm sure he does...." I said.

The sermon leader man behind the wooden pulpit, with no introduction whatsoever, began singing some religiously themed "God is great, God is good" type song, A Capella. I was pleasantly surprised by the even timbre of his voice which was smooth and strong. All around me hands began to wave through the air in rhythm with the tune, typical of fanatical Christians grouped together in close proximity to mimic one another's behavior. Being used to the electronically modified voices of perfection that are emitted from the insanely expensive sound system at Grace Church in Maryland Heights, I couldn't help but admire that these particular simpletons were enjoying their worship with nothing being spent other than the energy it took the singer to produce sound from his body. Nice.

When the tune was finished and the hands were lowered, the ordinary sermonish introductions began by thanking us for gathering together to praise Cheezits. The preacher then claimed he was going to take prayer requests. Prayers.. how glorious. Now we get to pretend we're doing something useful while in fact we'll be doing absolutely nothing at all. "If any of ya gots a need, then let us hear it now!" Bowing his head solemnly he nodded, "We got Steve here toni-ight, he's a prayer warrior and ya prayers WILL be answered cuz he tawk to Gawd!" I smiled in spite of myself, totally intrigued by this new development. A prayer warrior?! What the fu...

Gesturing towards to the left of the room stood Steve. The Prayer Warrior. I studied him carefully for a moment with disappointment. He didn't look like a prayer warrior to me. He looked like a portly middle aged white man in jeans and a striped blue shirt. No fancy shield or glowing golden sword indicating that he can rightfully claim Prayer Warrior status, no magnificent celestial white wings sprouting from his shoulder blades to prove he was the middle man for the Almighty... why was he the prayer warrior?! Was the Prayer Warrior the only one capable of tawking to Gawd? What a crock of shit! What if I can't find my keys tonight and I want to beg petty favors from God, but Steve is asleep or out of cell range? What then!

Steve nodded slowly and looked at the crowd as he took a deep breath and pulled a small notepad and pen from his back pocket, prepared for his heavy labor of demanding deeds from the lord on behalf of the parishioners gathered in the sanctuary. I heard a woman's voice somewhere near the back of the room, "I gotta prayer request for the country and our soldiers!" Hmm, well that sounded noble enough. Steve began jotting down the request while the preacher vehemently agreed. "Amen sister! Anyone else, less give it to Gawd!" A few of the church goers raised their hands and voiced their demands to the Prayer Warrior who was furiously recording the details. Everything from an afternoon heart catheterization to jobs for the unemployed was requested and I was momentarily humbled by the sincerity of those people and their most unselfish requests.

How many times had I partaken in similar events with similar Jesus freaks bartering tricks from God for themselves? Better jobs, bigger houses, improve my health, make my kid behave, bla bla bla with their tired droning. Never mind that according to their own dogma, their god has a PLAN for them. No, no... they want everything they want in their selfishness and greed. Typical Christians running loose all over the planet, doing good deeds only not because they actually should, but because they expect the eternal handout of a golden streeted paradise. Pathetic. However, not one single person in that room requested useless prayers for themselves and I couldn't help but be impressed.

I couldn't tell you the context of the sermon itself, I was distracted by Disturbed's Ten Thousand Fists soundtrack playing through my mind (Yes they know that you've hurt yourself another time, decadence isn't easy, is it? ... No it certainly isn't...) while the preacher blathered on about his god.

On the drive home I wasn't angry with my companion anymore. He had promised me a unique experience and he had certainly delivered that much to say the least. While I'm sure I disappointed his expectations of instilling a greater sense of tolerance for the faithful in me, I did walk away from it with a greater sense of disgust for large churches with wealthy pastoral figures. I was able to join in the festivities of a group of people who had little more to offer one another than prayer itself. There was no million dollar sound system perfecting every syllable of the speakers and singers standing on stages of specialized multi-colored light shows, there was no hazy smoke creating pseudo atmosphere's of serenity and mystique... there were no offering plates passed to collect massive amounts of tax free revenue in a gigantic state of the art facility. No in house bookstores collecting more cash from the simpletons, no cafe and restaurant performing the same cash cow function in what so many greedy fake pieces of shit call "church", just a small room in a small house full of delusional people, and as bizarre as they may have seemed, I had to admire them.

Even if just a little....

Life Lies

Do you ever wonder why we exist? What the purpose for our reality actually is... why is life like this? It's completely illogical because everything that most people do in the short time span they exist in never amounts to anything that lasts longer than the brief moment they and those around them experience, then it's gone and so are you and that's all.... that we know of.

Done.


At least there are distractions along the way.......


The world we live in is designed primarily of distractions because humanity as a whole is obsessed with materialism.

Which means absolutely............. nothing.

In so many sad ways we are little more than robots to a world that we exist in from birth to work for in order to maintain the continuance of these lies we call "life" so the next generation can follow in our footsteps and be the same robot slaves that we were. Working and working nonstop to buy more things, working longer hours to buy a bigger box to put all of your worthless shit in.... this is what we do.

But it doesn't mean anything, we waste ourselves away everyday.

We accept these lies as our reality. Do we really have a choice to do anything BUT that?
You want to have a choice but you don't because you're too afraid to stand out from the non-world you exist in when it's safer for your overblown ego to pretend you're something special even though deep down you know you're not.... no one is even though we want to be. We're just microbic parasites clinging to a big rock in the middle of a nothingness that we can't even comprehend.

Safer in case somebody starts to clue you in, you have that lie to fall back on telling you that you are soooo so special and unique....and it feels ok to believe it because that's what everybody else does.

It doesn't matter how old you are. You spend the earliest portions of your life in the institutional mindfuck known as the public school system and by a certain age you start counting down the days until you'll never have to step foot in that hell hole again because you know the conformity is a joke and you hate it, even when you tell yourself you love school you don't love that part but what you don't realize is that it's the cosmic joke.

That conformity never ends.

It's everywhere and it's everything. From the clothes you wear, the food you eat, to the types of music that you listen to.
All because someone else did, or someone else told you to. Said it was good, try it. You'll like it. Here's another distraction for you. Forget all about it not meaning a damn thing..... Not really.

Over 340 million people in this country suffer from depression.
That figure only covers the people who seek help for it, only those only under medical care.

This world we live in doesn't want people to be depressed.

It's bad for business.
Decreases productivity in the work force.

You go to the doctor and you get some pills that will make it ALL better... even zombies can be productive right?
Back to work!

Just another distraction. Another way to suppress the emptiness you feel inside yourself, like drug habits and alcoholism and OCD and every other demented dis-order and dis-ease we gift ourselves with.

Not that some people don't have serious problems. I actually know a few lunatics unfortunately... well one.

If you watch the phases of your life pass by and through each one you are waiting for some semblance of TRUE meaning and worthiness to show itself. Newer achievements, newer gods to worship, newer milestones....Always seeking, always searching for a greatness that we are blind to but never finding it so we grow old and we wait for this lie to end but it doesn't. (it can't)

It's the cycle of awareness, you can't escape it.

In the middle of it all, your desire to compete, whether you're twelve or fifty five, is what drives this lie further into your mind like a broken record until you have no other choice but to accept it as something it never was. (Your Life)

It's your weakness that fuels this continuation of existential mediocrity and it's that very same weakness you become so dependent on that you facilitate it's necessity to a level which renders you little more than a repetitious pre-programmed automaton.

Shelf life- 76 years.



Why are we ok with that?

Libraries

Libraries……. I have yet to find a public dwelling place that draws such a vast and uncommon variety of humans. My library fixation began innocently enough when I was doing research for a class and then it somehow bloomed into this bizarre existential obsession, like some kind of passive adrenaline burst that I wanted to have all the time so I kept going even after the research was completed, always finding one excuse after another to go there….. Of course it wasn’t really the place, it was the people. The Dwellars.

Over time I couldn't help but notice how interesting these people really are. I think my favorite is the “Crazy Guy”. He shuffles up and down the aisles while carrying on conversations with himself and his invisible companion. "Whatchoo say da me?... Heh heh yeah I know. I seen dat blue fish umpfin yetterday I told em..... What?! ….I doesn’t want dat!" Everything about Crazy Guy is intriguing in a train wreck sort of way. From his pock mark scarred, weather worn face and his faded black forearm tattoos to his filthy wardrobe that never changes. Always wearing the same grungy white wife beater t-shirt and tiny brown shorts with black dress socks pulled up to his knees. He completes this stunning ensemble with a dirty pair of beige construction work boots and a grimy grease stained Cardinal’s baseball cap.

Crazy Guy and I made mutual eye contact once. It was an extraordinarily jarring moment and I was sufficiently confident I would be slaughtered in the parking lot that night. I was sitting at my usual table near the back of the building behind a pile of books watching Crazy Guy giggling at what must have been the invisible butterflies flitting in the air near the non-fiction section when some kind of psychic radar must have kicked in and he turned around and caught me staring at him. I can’t imagine what my face must have looked like at that moment. I felt like a frightened goblin that had been caught trying to steal the soul of a slumbering child.
I averted my eyes in dismay. Shit! Maybe he didn’t notice me watching…. I took a deep breath and tested the view, looking up quickly in his general direction but not directly at him. Whatever oddities that were running through his mangled brain at the moment had frozen him in place. I sat there with my head down trying to think of some kind of self-defense technique I could perform from a sitting position should he suddenly decide to charge me in a manic fit of unbridled rage. I had no idea why he would even do such a thing, but when you’re wigging out it’s best to go over all the possibilities, including the idea that Crazy Guy may or may not be considering the various seasonings he could use to enhance the flavor of my corpse with before he cannibalized me.

“Feelin!” I heard it, but my brain was attempting to compute the nonsense into something logical that I could relate to. Feelin?... what the hell? Feeling maybe?... Felon? Yeah I’m definitely getting murdered tonight….. I looked up at Crazy Guy in confusion. “Feelin!” he croaked again, his gelatinously wrinkled mass of jowl quivered with his proclamation. In my own ensuing terror born insanity, I briefly pictured a swarm of miniature roaches sprinting from the dark crusty crevices of his neck meat while he maniacally stabbed at my mangled lifeless body. Don’t be such a drama queen you idiot, he’s just some harmless crazy old man…. Smiling at me encouragingly, he held his hand up in the air and started tapping his finger on a non-existent drum to a beat that only he could hear. While I was considering if I had enough time to scribble down a goodbye note to the kids before Crazy Guy invited me to his house as dinner, he spun around and walked towards the door. The entire scenario probably only lasted for about 2 minutes… But I did learn a lesson that day…. Never look directly at Crazy Guy again.


I appropriately dubbed another delightful dweller the Two Dollar Man. He is always... always at the library. The mystery about the Two Dollar Man is how he gets to the library in the first place because he wanders from person to person offering $2 for a ride home and it's always just $2. Never, 3 or 4 or even 5, but only 2 dollars. That isn't all he wants to gift the other dwellers though, he has a collection of notebook paper business cards which he created with his own hand that he decorated with festive ink flower doodles and circular tornado like scribbles around his email address and myspace url that he gives you when he tells you he's a rapper.

The Two Dollar Man approached me once with his paper card offering and rapper status acclamations. "I'm da next big thing. Check id out babygrrrl", thrusting his chin up in the air and still eyeballing me while patting his stomach like he just ate the most satisfying meal. “Kin you gimme a ride, babygrrrl? I got two dolla fa gas, jus down da road. Aint no rush I gots time.” What I wanted to say was something to the effect of- “Of course not. I don’t even know you and I already find you annoying. Why would I want to put you in my car where we have to be in an enclosed space together, breathing in each other’s carbon dioxide and dead skin cells. Then I’ll spend the rest of the month knowing that all of your decaying flesh is either still floating around in the car or somewhere, or even worse- resting gently on the surface of one of my lungs. If it’s just down the road then walk. Do you see TAXI written on my face you moron?”
Instead I simply said, “No habla ingles, lo ciento” and laid his paper card on the table like I didn’t understand a word he just said. The Two Dollar Man’s eyes lit up all bright and shiny with some form of special comprehension, “OH, OK DEN! GO HERR AND LISTEN TA DIS!” he shouts at me while pointing to his myspace url. I just told you I don’t speak English you brainless wit, I didn’t say I was deaf! I just smiled and nodded and battled the inclination to run after him and leap onto his back so I could snap his arm in half after he had the balls to stroke the side of my cheek with his grubby forefinger before he walked away. I’ll never be able to understand why strangers want to touch other strangers. It’s weird and intrusive and presumptuous.


Of course there's always a variety of what I call the “Cheating Whores” who come in and out of the library on a regular basis. They're easy to understand, usually of the wealthier lot. These expensively clothed, heavily jeweled, and immaculately groomed, Oompa Loompa tanned bleach blond nightmares are always at the computer terminals... which I found odd at first. They never check out any books, or even look at any books at all. They exclusively dominate the computers and why? Pass by their monitors and they're on email accounts or facebook of all places. No doubt cavorting with their cheating low life counterparts, only at the library so the husbands don't catch their misdeeds on their home PC's. It's just speculation of course, but why else would they constantly come into the library and use the computers when they’re obviously well off enough to have access at home. Losers! The most disgruntling factor concerning the Cheating Whores, aside from the obvious fact that if my suspicions are true they’re nothing but walking trash cans, is the disruption level they evoke. The Cheating Whores, hell bent on initiating a quick fix of Sin, never even bother to turn off their God forsaken cell phones so the entire time they’re choking up your fresh air with their perfume bathed bodies you’re forced to listen to some hideously tacky version of whatever popular hip hop song they think makes them younger just by listening to it every fifteen minutes, electronically chirping through your tortured ears, until you can’t get the tone out of your head and by then you’re pissed because you don’t even like that song! You don’t even like hip hop at all and now it’s raping your brain over and over again.


I think the most annoying library dweller is The Whiner. I run into her about 3 times a week and I always have to fight back the urge to punch her in the face because she never stops her stupid sheep’s whining. She bitches about everything in her high pitched nasal tone and tries to bring you into it too. "Don't you think those librarians are talking too loud?!.... Don't you think they close too early on Sunday?!.... Why don't they put out sanitary cloths to wipe keyboards off over there? That's unsanitary! ... Why don't they close the blinds? The sun hurts my eyes!"... On and on with her bullshit until I'm imaging how glorious it would feel to wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze until she ceases her pissing and moaning. Of course she would probably bitch about that too. "Why are your hands so cold?! Don't you think it should be warmer in here?!".... I cannot stand her.

I usually go to the library in the evening and stay until it closes. It gets very creepy at night when you're the last one there. Just one row after another of well-worn books, unoccupied aisles and dimly lit corridors. Every infinitesimal sound like a thunderous boom that echoes through all the empty spaces and then you hear a sound you didn't make and you wonder where it came from. Knowing there is no one else there and trying to imagine what made that shuffling sound, that muted thump, that soft sigh.... Brain racing for an explanation, heart rate increasing, you try to deduce some logical explanation for the mysterious phantom sounds around you while you listen in cold paranoia to the slow shick shick shick of the clock on the wall.... it’s an interesting rush.
Most adults go out for excitement when they’re feeling adventurous. They go out to dinners and movies, they go to clubs and bars, they get drunk and party with their friends.....I just go to the library.