Wednesday, 8 December 2010

About nothing

Well... nothing in particular. I'm going to start of by apologizing for the fact that many of the pictures I posted before have been removed. They were good, hard-working pictures and it saddens me to see them go. Second, I'd like to apologize for my grammar. In earlier posts I've often forgotten commas (and on one occasion placed one too early. It's icky) and made grammatically incorrect sentences, usually through wrongful use of idioms. My vocabulary is not, I think, lacking.

Sooooooo... watcha doin'?

It shows that I don't know what to write, doesn't it.
So anyway...


This is BORING!

This is what thinking must be like for boring people! Or dead ones. Do dead people write poetry? Good name for a band that. Like liquid diamond lipstick. Hell of a name for a band. Way better than what most bands come up with these days. Inception rocks. WAIT! Do dead people write poetry would be a better name for a book. To be adapted into a drama. With a shortened title, because hollywood thinks people are morons. Hollywood is right. Inception wasn't for morons though. The matrix wasn't the mindfuck it should/could have been. I kinda like charmed. It's funny and quirky, just like Xena. Do they still make those? Wonder what the actrice does. That series was weird. Didn't caesar order her legs to be broken? Something like that? Spider. Why think of a spider don't think of a spider CRAP! 3. Why 3? 3 spiders? Just 3. Stop talking to yourself. Crazy horses sounds like "wij zijn awesome" when sung by retards. Green red pink pens. I'm thirsty. Just read the above line again. CRAP! is very prominent. Spiders. CRAP!

That, ladies and gentlemen, is how I think. It goes a bit faster than that, because I had to write it down. It might explain how I'm so easily distracted because this happens aside from all the things I'm trying to write and think. The pro is that it helps me spot tiny mistakes (like the "aside" from the sentence before the sentence before this one. It used to be "besides" which would, if not wrong, at least LOOKED dirty). My mind is like... a human mind. Just... without a lot of the restrictions. My mind is kinda like tourettes. It yells stuff at me, sometimes profanity, sometimes a scream so loud it would deafen if it was unleashed upon the world. Sounds more ominous than it is. I pound the walls of a tiny cell inside my head, and I scream. Someone once said: an open mind is like a fortress with it's gates unbarred and unguarded. I say the mind is an expanding gas made from unstoppable force, locked inside a brain made of immovable object. I pound and pound and pound at the walls. I wish I could will my mind to expand. My head is too small for the thoughts I could have. It's like trying to appreciate a Van Eyck through a sheet with a single perforated hole in it. I wish I could dream up the painting. I just get distracted by details because I can only see details. I'm making it up to be way more dramatic than it is, but sometimes, it can really feel like this. Trapped inside my own skull, without the (admittedly false) comfort of having a life after death. So those of you who were worried: don't worry. Death is not an option, nor are drugs.
But I'll not accept my brainy limitations. I can imagine the improbable, the impossible. I can imagine the majestic, the grand, the massive. I'll start from there.

1 comment:

  1. Damn it Iskariot, didn't you say some time ago you would stop drinking those home-made teas?