Monday, February 03, 2003

listen you fuckers

mine eyes of seen the coming of the burning of the fence
they are torturing all the witnesses and making them all tense
they are fucking up the scenery with their pathetic little whines
my truth is marching on....

see, we can all be singers in the kingdom of the Ford.

did you know that right now it's 5:20 p.m. and i'm sitting up high, near the sky, don't know why, think i might not die

yes, it's true.
i seem to suffer from afflictions undetectable to the human throat. or face.
you think i jest but i doeth not jest.

out of a hazy cloud of drugs, this way i do come.
all these years, you've been waiting for this.
you, the people i don't know.
you, the people who don't know me.
but soon will.
very soon.

see, it has to begin somewhere. this story. this pack of lies and nonsensical bullshit. these musings of the heart, garnering at least a chuckle or two before going back to the dullard reality of life.
see, we have to create something more.
we, meaning we, you, I, us, everyone, no one, the collective entity that we call human beings.
we have to create something beyond our normal framework, piecing it together in a way that pleases us, especially when we have those fond memories of "looking back."
ah but see therein lies the conundrum, every second is a memory.
every moment that passes becomes fodder for conjecture. so then, everything becomes the past, except what is to come, which we don't know.
unless of course we could travel through time, which, i have been obsessed with my whole life.
we'll get to that later though.

so here it is, as i am writing this, monday, february 3, 2003, at 5:25pm.
but it's all ephemeral. nothing lasts. well, things last of course, since i'm speaking in super vague terminology here. but for the sake of argument...and in the grand scheme of things, truly ...NOTHING LASTS forever.
despite everything we say and hope.

time, such an odd concept. a human way to record shit, a human-devised way to ensure we can record anything that happens.
see this gets back to my thoughts about as humans, we have this instinctual need to record everything we see do maybe in the hopes that this will somehow affect and/or help/teach people in the future.
or provide a snapshot of what life was like in the here and now, which wont' be the here and now even when you read this.

see, how this is all circular psychobabble bullshit?
double ha
triple ha

pass the potatoes please.

currently listening to: Ben Wa - "Devil Dub" - local peeps. it's pretty good.

and there's your 10 minutes of writing for you.
though it would seem as though i've got about 30 seconds left to write about something.
hmmm, what could it be.
that i still am really really stoked about my new private computer space? yes, yes, i am.
yes. and yes.

love and delicious snack cakes,

Gary B. Bunkka

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