something about peripheral vision

Posted on: August 13, 2004
The typewriter-thing began to hiss and fumble like a deflating football perched over the Cayman Islands in an alternate reality, and words it began to spit out. Coherent, yet babbling on and on. Not like a brook. More like a torrential downpour. They came, many in their number, singular in their vision. They spoke in the third and fourth person. Moreso, they liked Cheetos — no-name (TM) brand. Who could bring it upon themselves to believe such things? I do. I am very thankful, very grateful for life, mine and yours. There is enough pain and suffering in the world as it stands/falls.
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Thus it went:
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>>> sppppt
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And it all looks so normal to you. So plain, so mundane (hey, that rhymes!). But there are the little things out of the corners of your eye — eyes — or maybe out of the corners of your mind's eye — again, the possibility for plurality exists — that kind of make you wonder.. Not wonder about whether this life is a real one, but make you wonder if there's more magic out there to be had and experienced because you haven't fully existed yet. But of course there is. I know there are fringes of reality. This isn't about it. But it's surreal. Definitely surreal. And?I know there are gaps, things most of us see and don't even do a double-take. It's like the chameleon, but one that is all colors at the same time. A rainbow chameleon. Crossed with an amoeba. And a zebra. Where's this going? Somewhere I promise. Somewhere, I promise.
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>> pizzaad
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You know what's delightful? The Neon Ones. I like the Neon Ones. They are elegant and classy, for the most part. They can be crude when they want to, and it's far more mutable and adaptable than turning refined oil back into crude oil. Or something. Somewhere. There's such poise and grace and balance and it all strikes out.
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> green spuds bomber <crossreferenced:with> mahjong. Roll The Dice, Hoss.
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I wonder why there aren't more bios of the Americanime mavericks. Will there be??3hrhfh3hf39r2934i8llll………..l….l.llllaaa
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IV. tantalizing cows
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I used to do this every morning. Not brush my teeth with Aqua-Fresh or eat Corn Pops — those things, I do not do anymore. But every day toddling off to school, I'd take time to sit at the terminal and write something. It might be a story, it might be a true story, it might be somewhere in between. And that's what comes naturally?to me. Certainly a way to express creativity. Certain words and word-pairings (and sometimes, even more compound groupings making for increased simple complexities) I really adore and like to use over and over again over the course of the spacetime continuum. Sure, it might go away. Your dog has to go in the doghouse too. But if your dog's a loyal one, he'll come back. She'll come back. Same for your cat.
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That being said, why can't we have a word that describes both male and female? I'm not talking about "shemale". But notice he and she? "It" isn't valid. Can we have "xer" (wisely suggested to me by several sages), as the X = variable to be filled in later. Can we please have the gracious benefit of taking that one on?
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FIVE.
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There's a twist to some tales. But sometimes, no twist will be the biggest twist of all. Take note of these: imploding psychology, mimetic propagation, technosnobs, technocracy, Philip Glass Principle, state the obvious, redundancy. More to come.
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THE AFOREMENTIONED IS STRICTLY FICTIONAL FACT. It is not?*the* puzzle.
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It is a piece of the puzzle. =^_@=
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The display shut down momentarily. The typewriter-thing?seemed to sooth itself, making sounds not unlike that of a sick hiccuping frog — Michigan J. Frog if you need a name — and somewhere in the distance, a man with a wrinkled brow wrinkled it further, increasing the temporal redundancy factor by a multiplier of 10x. It was like a sick pinball game being played out not by God and the devil but by Curtis Wilcox and George Lass. Cumulus came and went. Cumulus came.
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And somewhere, in the midst of all of this, there were smiles. Ridiculous smiles, almost like those chibi manganime characters you see advertised all over Fifth Avenue in NY, New York. Somewhere in a park near there, there's a statue celebrating the lives of a couple of great human beings. It's worn and pigeons shit all over it but it gets cleaned nicely. The clubs nearby pump out no end of delinquently restrained beats, content to thump into the wee hours of the morning — say, 3 AM and beyond. Up into the sunrise. Where the cumulus came again, and comes again. All for you. All for us. The human race. greetings, fellow human being! :)
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Yeah, there are smiles, baby!
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I hope you eat well too… techno music plays on (like the mechanized marching band it can be but not always is).

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