I eat hamburgers but I don’t eat the bun. This has been firmly established. The vast majority of my best creative ideas are sacrificed to the gods of the abyss of ephemeral uncaptured neuronal firings. If gluten was just banned it would be a lot easier to go out with friends. For me. And that’s the reason I complain about the environment as well. For me. I’m not an environmentalist. I just don’t like garbage. I want the trees and plants and good weather and all that stuff for myself, not future generations. I don’t recycle paper and plastic separately and carefully discard electronics through the mandated depots and. I don’t know how to end sentences. I don’t know where to put things: Like a bunch of photos on my computer, or a bunch of ideas in my head. Do I put these pics on instagram, or Facebook, or snapchat, or a blog post, or do I just get stressed out and not post them at all? I had three New Years Resolutions That Were So Important That I Wrote The Rest Of This Sentence in Title Case. For the record, I will post them here, from Facebook, because I don’t know where to put things. (I want a persona, a way the public sees me, but I have not found it yet).
- New Years resolution: no more new years resolutions. Dammit, broken already.
- New Years resolution: drunk drive a Ferrari 250 GTO without insurance, accidentally crash into the White House (the Ferrari is worth more than the White House) and laugh and laugh then walk away without consequence.
- New Years resolution: never take a break from watching TV, other than to piss, only shows about giant mansions, making swords with fire, and Game of Thrones on continuous repeat, until 2019.
- New Years resolution: only eat probiotics, fermented foods, and wild fruits from Africa, until I devolve into an earlier species of hominid with an indestructible microbiome.
- New Years resolution: astral project into a prokaryotic unicellular organism so I can experience what it’s like to be a morally-superior lowest carbon-footprint most minimalist life form, then come back to being a human and try the much anticipated new Ruby chocolate from Barry Callebaut.
OK that’s 5 technically speaking, also non-technically speaking, just basic-counting speaking, but it’s also not the first of January anymore so who’s still playing by their own rules anyway here. Life is an art form, stop being so damn rigid.
Again I wish I could put things in simpler language but the damn neuroprogramming addiction that I have seems to forbid that actuality. The good thing is, no one reads this. Not even me. This is my private notebook, published on the internet.
People want a blog that has to do with politics or nutrition, science, or some specific relatable topic. I just want to embrace confusion, no I want to avoid confusion, but I keep summoning it, like the demon of mental turbidity in the plumbing damages of the sewers of the mind. Brown brain. Mud head.
I wish I had the energy to write a poem or figure out a format of expression that was in some way not just lingual trash for long tail of the cyberverse. My teacher always handed back my English papers in high school and said, try for one sentence to write something that is not completely abstract; touch base with the surface of the reader’s mind. But donkeys, I don’t have to write anything, I don’t have to audition for anything, I don’t have to have a philosophy at all. I just have to get over this insomnia so I can do something that’s not divisible by zero.
Sleepless Aaron
Jan 5-2018