An IQ may be conditional to society.

One may naturally adapt well to one area of skill at one time, and another, in a different time.

ok. so here I go….time to let it flow….
ok. here I go… what is it that you’d want to know?
alright. I got it… there’s nothing in my memory. Why is that so?
I don’t know either. I guess this is when you’d want to go.
There may be something interesting, but honestly, I really don’t know.
Wait….one second….never mind…no.

The mystery of worm is a mystery to the mysterious, mysteriously, meticulously, malignantly, modest man.

someone should invent this!: keyboard mouses that clean a surface as they are being used

hey. you know what? I’m going to run off that cliff and fly. What? no your not. That’s insane! You wouldn’t live! sure I would, but you might die…why? why would I die? you’re freaking me out. goodbye to you this evening, sir. I’m not sir, I’m a voice in your head. oh shit that’s right. oh right, I forgot you forget things. haha, very funny. you’re not funny either. you know I’m funny. yeah funny looking. what do you mean funny looking, you’re the one with a face, dipshit.

Today, I am having the internet installed in my apartment. I will finally have a game to play again. Enough with this bottling around with numbers and wireframes.


I just realized, out of the 16 neighboring tunnels, I’m the only one without internet yet….How about that? I guess this media has really grown on us too.


The night bewilders me. The moon above, beyond reach. And the stars, beyond the reach of the moon. All too much depth in a single perception as a being of this singularity that is matter and not matters; everything that can be explained and everything we do not yet as well as nor shall we ever know.

Peace is a perception. Growth is a perception. Life is a perception.

Time is an evolution of tools and its bond with our minds. It’s funny how frames and tools always seem to coincide.

Silence is not something we know anymore. We hear the bass in your voices, but we resent the bass that you ever so elegantly plaster to the walls of your dwellings.

I suppose life down here isn’t all bad. We deal with disasters, just as you and your humans, but we do not have wars. We survive. Us worms just stick to ourselves.

Construction is how we eat, so work is mandatory, but me, I’m a freelance worm. I’m working my way up the latter. The same latter, in fact, that I designed myself.

Well, that’s all I really have to say for tonight, Friend. (I’m case you missed it, I just turned my head slowly to the left)


With cold winds and solid ground, the food was hearty today.

hey there, how are you?
I’m good. You must be hassled.
not doing much. just passing thru.
I’ve just been playing ball since I was like eight years old.
what about you? Still up in Perdu?
I decided to move further up North. I like to study the cold.
This is neat that you are doing that. True.
I remember you used to fight. Now, you don’t look so bold.
I write and draw. That’s about all I do.
I see. That is cool. Well, I’ve got to hit the road.
Yeah, ok. see you soon.

this is shitty…

so I sit here, this line again, so I type it as it has already been seen. I’m floating in pasta. hey, look! It’s a rasta! “Aye Mon. I got it, but ittle cost ya!” I need some too, not a little, but lotza. but I gotta find the money. I gots ta. so then I find it, buy it, and spark that lighta, yes!

welcome to another wacky episode of “Who done stole my boobs?”

This week we are standing here with Grizzle McFartski, a patron of the local bar. Grizzle McFartski, who done stole your boobs?

Da Gawd damn govment stole MY boobs!

“Great Grizzle Mcartski, thanks for sharing. We seem to..”

I want’em back!

“Oh. Ok. Grizzle Mcfar-”

You got my boobies don’t you NEWS PEOPLE! With your houdy toudy ‘tudes and yer workin’ for the govment!

“This just in…I’ve been fired! Back you to saggy skin griddle cake.”



and there, in the puddle on the sidewalk, he rose from the depths of hell. As he took his first step he landed in dog shit. SON OF A CUNT! I just bought these shoes! 1200 souls, these things cost me… you see, the longer you spend in hell, the higher your taxes are. this dementedly departed fellow had been in hell no less than 8,973 years, 5 months, and 7 days. He remembers his early 1000’s: counting the minutes. Now he just counts the days. How long before he starts to count only months, and then years, and eventually forget time altogether.

I am drunk like I give a fuck. and as a matter of fact, I can’t draw back. I am in a lack of words, lacking power. I am alone, am I? Yes. But so? So what? You gonna put put tup puttt? Get what. and get down. don’t let your mind astray, just frown. yeah. you know what it is. it is going down.

My story is a grim one.

For years the death bringers, the harbingers, have terrorized us. For too long have they oppressed us? This will continue for some time…unless…unless I use my super powers of doom!

How could I have forgotten for nearly a millennia that I have the super powers needed to kill these bad guys? Oh yeah….I’m a bit of a drug addict.

I must fight!…right after I hit this bong and shoot up.

Ooooooohhhhhh-K… Let’s just get moving here… Shit! Damn end table…

It’s dark now. I can barely see…I suppose wearing shades at night doesn’t help but I need to avoid being seen by the fuzz as a drug addict…THOSE DAMN DRUG ADDICTS!!!! They ruin the whole “let’s get high,” scene.