In Thy Mercy
Right. When I go to hell, Claire Danes wouldn’t look at me if I were using the only water in hell to put her flaming flesh out. When I go to hell, sports won’t air on television. When I enter hell, I am sure I will be looked over and not receive as much torture or pain as everyone else, because I can keep my mouth shut. As I rot in hell, I will carve a small corner out and remember old books I read and smile. When I escape hell, no one will notice or care. When I exit hell, I will be met by God and his Angels and they will return me to hell for the bounty on all escapees because heaven needs new highways and they don’t believe in taxes. Heaven would rather have the money than me. That is what I am getting at.
In case anyone is keeping score, I am losing. But to be fair, I haven’t met a winner yet.
I have successfully become invisible. I am unsure if this accomplishment was accomplished on purpose or by fate or by unfortunate luck, but I am sure people can see through me. I am mostly not there anyway. Part of me is there, but most of me is caught in the ether between this realm and a billion planes of existence where my life is dramatically different. So, while invisible, people cannot walk through me yet. However, if the eyes are the physical manifestation of a representation of the soul, and everyone looks through me, then it only stands to reason that the only part of everyone that will carry on upon their inevitable deaths walk through me.
I am giving 12 to 1 odds that I never own a couch.
Mark Strong is my new favorite actor.
Actions write the words other speak. Reality is mediated by everything. Truth is needed. Unfortunately, the truth isn’t funny. Unless it is funny. Which it isn’t. Except I find it funny. I went around town today, and in five hours I saw 200 signs telling me what I cannot do.
I never wanted to wake up and be 60. But tomorrow, I will and I won’t be able to tell anyone a single thing about my life. Partly because nothing worthy of memory happened. Partly because Tennessee Whiskey kills my brain cells. But mostly because it is pointless to talk to people who can’t see you.
In case anyone is keeping score, I am losing. But to be fair, I haven’t met a winner yet.
I have successfully become invisible. I am unsure if this accomplishment was accomplished on purpose or by fate or by unfortunate luck, but I am sure people can see through me. I am mostly not there anyway. Part of me is there, but most of me is caught in the ether between this realm and a billion planes of existence where my life is dramatically different. So, while invisible, people cannot walk through me yet. However, if the eyes are the physical manifestation of a representation of the soul, and everyone looks through me, then it only stands to reason that the only part of everyone that will carry on upon their inevitable deaths walk through me.
I am giving 12 to 1 odds that I never own a couch.
Mark Strong is my new favorite actor.
Actions write the words other speak. Reality is mediated by everything. Truth is needed. Unfortunately, the truth isn’t funny. Unless it is funny. Which it isn’t. Except I find it funny. I went around town today, and in five hours I saw 200 signs telling me what I cannot do.
I never wanted to wake up and be 60. But tomorrow, I will and I won’t be able to tell anyone a single thing about my life. Partly because nothing worthy of memory happened. Partly because Tennessee Whiskey kills my brain cells. But mostly because it is pointless to talk to people who can’t see you.
Labels: the greatest shit ever
posted by Yossarian at 11:38 PM
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