The Obscure

Time does strange things to a man.

I guess it can be assumed that time would do strange things to a woman, too. Or a child. Time might even do strange things to an animal; but let's not jump to conclusions. Because, as they say: once you jump to conclusions, it is very difficult to get back again.

*Several Moments Later*
A flush of my cheeks and a spin of the chamber and I am back where I started. Attempting to write on an incredibly full stomache is difficult work, but it appears that someone has to do it. Verily, if I do not write now, it may be that I will never write again. That wouldn't necessarily be tragic; but it would be pretty boring.

I got a great big pointed fang
Which is my Zomby Toof
My right foot is bigger than my other one is
Like a regular Zomby Hoof

As true today as it was, when it was written.

Why can I not think thoughts with any kind of correlation between them?
What a terrible state of being. Amisare Waswere. Damn you, Mr. Bendikson.

Late at night I have discovered that I am omniscient. I know everything at all times, but I also cannot ever understand anything. At night, though, something clicks in my head and I realize that everything means nothing, so by understanding nothing I can truly say that I know the meaning of life. I just can't repeat the meaning of life to anyone, think about the meaning of life at any time, or act upon my knowledge of the meaning of life in any way, shape, or form.
Perhaps the true meaning of life is to muck about in pointlessness? No, if it was, I wouldn't be able to do it.

My mom woke me up this morning by jabbing my wall with her cane. As some of you may know, this enrages me for some reason that nobody understands. In my sleepy stupor I punched the wall (really hard) to let her know that I was awake. I put a dent in the wall and, more importantly, a dent in my knuckle. Don't worry, though, the dent in my knuckle was quickly filled up with blue, swollen flesh. I think I may have broken it again.

Oooold Franky Zapps. The things you have done for this world.
But what does Bobby Dyls have to say about this?

Bobby Dyls: Heh, I'm masqueradin'.

On that note, I leave you all. I hope you enjoyed this poorly written and entirely unplanned descent into crap.