The Following inputs are random, sometimes meaningful, to me, that are here simply to help you pass the time…
I find myself in moments where I feel like a genius and a fake at the same time. therefore occurs when I am at/or close enough to the peak of my bi-polar disorder. I could be convinced that I understand things that I don’t actually know anything about. I’ll sit alone in my apartment for days until the peak begins to decent. I write. I draw up plans for my own ideas of inventions. I used to paint and draw. I find myself believing, at times, that I am comfortable around other people, yet, I am not.
I do not like not being a functioning schizophrenic. I do not like the medications I take.
Known fact: The world is round….so why do straight rulers work? If long enough, a ruler would bend the minds of millions, just as gravity bends it.
THE FLU FIGHTERS
In a world.where everyone is sick.all but four people.set out to stay….UNSICK.
Influenza has finally mutated beyond vaccination. Nearly the entire world is vomiting, sneezing, coughing, and sweating on everything visible.
To John, as a doctor, he was naturally a germaphobe. He never left his house, he would only eat what he grew himself on his giant ass farm.
People kept trespassing and stealing his food in hopes of getting over their illness so he put fences up with barbed wire and electricity.
He was ruthless, but he had to be if he wanted to survive this apocalyptic crashing and swaying wave of sickness. He trusted no one.
In his early years, John would eat everything in sight. This lead to him getting very sick as a child, he recalled. His head was spinning, making it nearly impossible to make it to his bedroom up the winding staircase. He threw up on multiple occasions on the stairs that week.
As he was wallowing in pain, he decided to dedicate his life to preventing illness. He knew, at his prime of youth, that he would become a doctor…but then it occurred to him: if he were a doctor, he would be around sick people all the time. That was too big of a risk. Instead, he vowed to become an independent journalist to spread the news of new illnesses and new ways to fight them.
One day, he cut his finger on a piece of paper. It turned green. The color moved to his arm, and then his chest and shoulder, and eventually he died.
No one knew that John had been one of the only people on Earth to not have the flu because no one knew him. When he died. No one knew it and no one cared. That was the end of it because no one knew the other three survivors either.
the fear grows. am I insane? what has become of me? where is my next move?
the time travels. am I insane? where will it go? where is my next stop?
this could be my stop.
a maze with no exit bears no entrance.
in a day of sorrow, beer has no flavor, no kick, and no regrets.
a hangover results in emotion, it reveals the true pain of the heart, and sorrow for others and it shows the worth of life.
the question of alcohol: how bad are you really doing? is it worth sacrifice?
a true leader would deny this all.
a true human would let you know the truth.
possibly the most valuable invention idea I have:
spring support for headphones with plastic tubing separating the wires from the coils and another for keeping the coils out of harm’s way via snagging.
when peace expires, what too shall then pass upon the control of our domain in indefinite suspicion, moving in no solid direction, yet everywhere but here, all at the same time. a great notation indeed, I endearingly devote this moment, passing by, to that which is myself or you in the terms of your own acceptance, as I transfer my energy to your disposition, and I shout, ‘HOLY Shit…Bum bum…bum bum bump. and other music sounds, to which I have become known to reproduce of such a theme and topic, that you are now beginning to understand in a way that a monkey recognizes the intrusive smell of his own shit.
There was a motion. Yeah, it rocked the ground.
Here is inconsiderateness. No, no one can see you around.
You’re underground. Well, not the level, but you’re under a roof.
We can not find you. Or maybe we haven’t tried hard enough.
What is your name? Oh yeah, we already know it.
Let us cheer. Wait, are you still gone?
Do you have hope yet? Don’t you remember? Yeah, it rocked the ground.
:D(-< (:D)(-< (:D))-< Friendship (:))(-< * (:))(-< On a boat (:D)(-<[} BallMan <(^^)>
so, here I am; at the edge of this cliff. I’m going to jump, you know, but as long as your here, I might as well tell you the story of why I’m going to do this….oooooooohhhhhhhhhhh! I’mmmmmmmmm fallllllllllllllllllllllll……*Ker-ploosh!*
I often dream or even imagine that I am in a coma, in a dream, in a coma.
My sub-conscience hears these people and wants to respond but I am in it too deep, so it tries to wake me up.
I dream that I am dying, so my sub-conscience tells me to fight. I fight.
The pain is intense, but I push it back. It is a struggle.
Is my Area Postrema damaged? My Cerebellum probably is.
I find myself lost in my dreams. What can not be clearly seen is just as real as what I know to be true.
I am alone, here. I am without communication, directly. I can not but see, but you see me in my dreams, don’t you? It is because I exist, that I may continue to exist, but you, you are in my mind alone.
Alone, I find my peace. Together, we make my dreams. Yesterday, I spoke to you in a tone of disinterest, but fear not. I was up too late spending my time working up a dream so I could be with you sooner.
I am a writer. Am I not? How did you receive this message? Was it an oral report? I didn’t think so, so what are you doing tonight? It seems to me that I have a report to give.
The life of this man was immense. There was pain all around him. He could have lived in a cave for all he cared because there was never anything more than truth in pain.
He lays there, on the floor, sulking, frayed, and sick of this damp place filled with spiders and rats. He sees the mistakes in living on this side of town.
Withered and stunned on this stained studio he sadly sleeps somewhere shoreful. The rot. The rift in the channels. The fearful encrustations. It was all too real. When he awoke, it faded away and so did his hope.
He drags his feet as he stumbles his senses. The burn of allergies. The lack of motor skill with slackly muscles. His vision grasping the view with accuracy. With his fingers numb and slow, he collapses, never to breathe again; never to hurt at all; never to learn once more.
As I was born, I am to be born again after death. To where? Well, to here, some seemingly infinite years later. I will be none the wiser, as I am now. I most likely won’t even realize that it will have been at least the second time I’m alive, just as it feels now. Assuming that no energy may become truly spent, because all energy simply transforms from one embodiment to the next, and assuming that time is infinite, we may hope that one day we will be once again born under the same parents, surrounded by the same people at the same times that we had played out in our lives. It may be fair to say that not even time will stand this test. Why? It is because time is an illusion, just as is the idea that we each live in an organized singularity. As a Christian dominant country, here in the USA, the only passages we follow are that of a book written two thousand years ago, and these records tell us that all predictions of the world ending have yet to happen. Life is about time. Time will determine everything, given the right amount. Time. It is what keeps us from idly standing by to count how many thoughts it takes to see the Moon or Sun.
Ultimately I wish to go to college to confirm a theory of mine that we are part of a much greater scheme of life. If you believe in God (or don’t, in some cases) you may like this theory of mine as you read into the further details of this idea. You see, we are but a small piece of a single strand of DNA or RNA that not even an electric microscope could find.
This does not suggest that time is not forever, to life as a whole, even though we will one day, each, die. It does suggest, though, that God is perhaps the creature, the humanoid, (or perhaps: Godoid) that we live inside of like a bacteria that aids the bodies of living creatures. As God reaches his eventual death (in a time that can not be measured), we too will die, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t live on in other Godoids.
To prove this, we must first determine the inter-clockwork of all gravity, meaning we will have to first calculate the mass of stars, and their densities. Further on, we must compare these details with that of plants, and animals, bacteria, and viri. The end goal is that we will learn how to reach our maximum ability to preserve all life that we will ever know. (the real reason is meant to target technology, if not to digress than at least to organize it better and find new morals that contain basic communication skills and adaptation over conformity.
I am not yet a scientist. For now, I am an observationalist.
Here we see a man of no mystery. He is bold. He is shockingly neat and organized. He has prepared and now he is ready….TO KILL! (in video games)
Here. He is here. Gone. I will soon diverge from life.
are only suns that have solar flairs capable of honing planets in its rotation?
I sense this feeling. I may need to sneeze. I am in wonder. what does this mean? I am alone now, in my thoughts. I am relieved as if that was what I perceived. I walked to the fridge. Now I am cold. There are many different changes as you get old. I sat on the couch, upon my cat. I ignored his cries until I got up. There are parts of this story that are true, but the ones that aren’t are but metaphorically painted blue. I took off my shoes to find a tick climbing upon them. I set the lasers to the sun. It didn’t work, as it is a toy, so I now regret not using a real gun. (Insert dirty pun.)
In the years of a revolution, sudden changes take place for the better of a nation or nations. many may become confused, and few are capable of keeping up with the changes, also rendering them too to be confused. There is usually but one or a small few that succeed in bringing light to the surface, because, in this metaphor, the many are using what lights they have to pick at these new ideas in groups to better understand the simplicity of the changes. One man or a small few may have the above ground people’s light shining on them, but it is the miners that find the material for the one or small few that then may be constructed into a paved road for the rest to reach the maximum potential of the general understanding, which then becomes the very ground of which we have all lived on. this can not be achieved when we decide to harm a fellow man or woman; this only slows down our greatest achievements as a society. The key is passion, determination, and devotion.
The sound of this sort is in your ear. no one or thing capable of making these sounds exists. the music continues to tread further. it shakes the ground. mountains arise all over the earth with a span of distance long enough to warp itself about our atmosphere. We will become sub-humans living underground. And that’s why you shouldn’t pick at your ear.
I am in angst as the clock ticks its way downward in the spiral of nature. Tick: it taxes. I smoke a cigarette. My heart-rate drops. Am I having a panic attack? Why do I feel this way? How can I feel at all? Why must my muscles sometimes fail me? Why did I ever take that drug, may it be legal or not, that has destroyed my once amazing reflects? My heart-rate speeds up. I don’t feel so well. I go outside. I struggle to breathe over this pollen and the heat. It is too humid to be a worm of my kind. An asthmatic, I am. These pills don’t work the way they assure me they will. They are unhealthy, but whom I am?
Nature is neutral. There is no shame in being different. We all are, therefore we are identically different. In this, we are all the same. Would you attack someone just like you? Would you not judge someone? If you recognize what I have said, then your answer should be…(IDK…) Pain is voided by my strength. Thoughts race through my mind.
They say Valerian Root is too risky. I can’t deal with these thoughts. I can’t deal with myself. I am unsure how to handle this. I can barely see. I may be going blind, but I just don’t see it.
My gnat is out of control. He keeps urinating everywhere. I am special. I am not you. It’s not all about what I do. It is about the way I make something appear to be new. I am not grown, I just speak in a low tone. I am lost. Can you show me the way to my home? It is a cloudy night. I want to be alone. There is lightening but that’s all that is shown. A tree just ripped into my house. It broke my phone than landed on my foot. Now I’m on hydrocodone. The noises disturb me and offend my ears. “Please make the pain go away,” I say in tears. A friend is with me drinking beers. I won’t drink because it removes my ability to bare this that, which is insanity.
I purchased a pair of speakers that have micro-water jets in multiple colors that “dance” with the music, (or video). As I was staring at the ceiling as a spectacle of lights combined and moved in near idiosyncrasy, I remembered an inventive idea of mine; a double panel equalizer meant to program a spherical plane speaker. As I pondered on this idea, I realized that these speakers are nearly the exact same principles as my idea. The speakers themselves may be equalized, but where does the second equalizer fit in? In addition to the speakers, the water jets, of four colors, themselves move in the fashion of an equalizer. This speaker is exactly what I was hoping to create. It truly is quantum physics at it’s best. a possible solution for not being able to use headphones with my new speakers: buy a headphone jack split that holds one male jack attached to two female jacks. The male jack would hook up to the only speaker slot, while the two female jacks would be used to plug in the cord that is intended to allow volume. The other jack would be hooked up to my headphones. My goal is to find a way to watch the colors on the ceiling at night without keeping my neighbors awake, as the volume and jets work as one, in which they may not be separately adjusted.
-Yo mama so fat that she thought a pizza cookie was a single serving, so she ordered three.
-I’m so dumbbb…wait. shit!
your so stupid that stupidity has to deal with YOU.
For the first time, the strange anomaly of finding a section of my vision has transpired inside an electronic. I am watching TV and for a few seconds, everything on the screen started to scroll up and down at the same time. This happens on nearly a daily basis outside of watching television. Disturbing thoughts perpetrate the idiosyncratic into the exposition of omnicity. He larks, “something new is as good as two to you.” When will he hither? Spoketh the drain, “I know it to be true. Do you? Oh…A ku against dAku. Where is justice where there is no law of theirs? We rest unsightly. We grow uncontrollably. We are the remains of a remembrance. To you, two is truer than what you see between you, I, and usssss.” My time here is spent. There is but time to hold the truth to our depths of unified understanding. “Let us break off from this branch and start anew. When will we see what lies within you?” he spews. When we see you disprove the idea of truth. When we see the dawn break from the sun. When we are invited into the hottest of drags under the underlining of a sew-tress. When fire and hell breaketh through and only away, a stone from which you threw, we will shriek, “This can’t be true!.” Omnipotently, we are askew. (Summary: The singularity of one often represents the many. There are dangers and distractions. To look back is to show pride. We often break away, as we are not perfect, but in this mistake, we are unified yet shamed.) ((“invited into the hottest of drags under the underlining of a sew-tress,”: requested upon to accept the heat and intensity of hell, put together with strings, for that which is entertaining to the darker forces of the two.))