~in medias res and shit

War is hell I guess. Stuck in some motion-blurred gunfight, my friend loses both of his arms. They're gone like I'm running toward that condo over there. Inside, I don't care about your arms. I don't care about any of this. I jump out of the window, and roll down an everglade. In the 1820's they were less judicious about prefixes.
I go to the mall. I walk around, outraged that I'm in a mall. I start shouting "Why am I here?" but continue rambling. This woman walks by, long long hair, it's dark. I squeeze her arm because I'm outraged and she's good looking. She begins to follow me.
The woman takes me to the zoo, and convinces me to buy this droopy baby elephant. Now I've got this droopy baby elephant. It flops around on my back, on the ground, its elastic. We take it to some counsellor. She doesn't know anything about elephants and never lowers the shades enough.

~puppet hands

I saw the hands of the great creator. They are not limitless. They fit into a square room with an oak floor. I don't know what business they have there. Recreating things? Recreating me into a woman. I am beautiful. Is it real? I am not sure. The great creator can physically manipulate things. His hands are warm. Is the self physical? I am not sure. I see my body move. It is not me. We are separate things.

Last night I felt like spiders were licking their legs on my milky scalp - the part you see when your hair gets parted awkwardly. So I scratched it, a lot. And I was talking to a friend about how computer science is this huge metaphor for trying to separate logic/emotion. We were making the connections [thinking like a computer scientist is a logical ideal, but it's undermined by the assumption that our only limitations are processing power - what is the human equivalent for processing power?] and I kept scratching the back part of my head, it was something to do, and when I stopped thinking for a second it would look like I was still thinking. Which helped my situation since he was more engaged than me MOSTLY because when I looked at my left hand, my fingertips were all brown and shrivelled like driftwood.
I should have stopped him and been like, hey, my fingers are turning into driftwood, but I was freaked out, and I could see on his face he was having this huge breakthrough..
So I effectively wasn't listening but nodding and thinking about how soon my hand is going to fall off. And how my fingers were packing peanuts, if you twisted them they'd pop into two pieces, and if you wanted to shock someone you'd put one piece in your mouth because now they make them with sorghum or starch or whatever

~accidents

You never know why those cars are on the side of the road. CSI Amatuer Detective Deductive Reasoning concludes: Well they probably crashed at a stop light. But one of them might have drugs, that guy looks like he has drugs. WELL, we care and we don't care [my mom and I], standing on the corner there's fog everywhere it's near the end of winter, no lights to suggest there's anything else out there, and it's the end so obviously all my teeth fall out

¬explanation

Metaphors happen when one thing obviously represents some other meaningful thing so the twiniverse bends to make the connection happen in some stupid way

ex. you're on the sidewalk with your fiancee talking about how you decided you actually want a family and then two big and two little geese get run over by a truck -- poofing feathers everywhere -- they land and spell out "he's lying"

found outside a pub:

"I was ded wrong about the waterfall your thoughts don't create your reality the russian white water does. Look'n back on well drinkin' alcohol with mates well, they were my mates but now all they talk about is how workin' at the gas station sucks and when someone asks for the same cigarette packs every day when they could just buy cartons and be done with it how that sucks too.

Look'n back on that we didn't think the waterfall was real enough to kill us but like I said we were ded wrong about that:

Basically I tossed my cider bottle into the russian white water in a way I thought was triumphan but I didn't realize pretty much the fiber of me is addicted to alcohol so the bottle, like a dumb shit metaphor dragged me in with it. Hell's like trying to get drunk but you can't and you feel like you gotta pee"

Deep Black Darkness is NOT the absence of light.

Darkness is what's constructed and dealt and traded by corporate executives (ENCT North anybody??)
That's why the alleys are full of darkness all the time. But why would the benevolent but ungenerous city council spend resources on darkening alleys? (serious question)

It's because only really meaningful experiences happen in dark alleys. That's why they're more important than schools: taking you out of your comfort zone. Everybody has got a dark alley story. That's intentional. There's not good or bad ones just meaningful ones.

~center for studies

there's this room here, where basically, people with no real significance to your life become really important. people you won't ever see again. faces painted on the mannequins of your dreams with thick, wet, wet brushes: rendered again (this time glorified in painful detail) by Pointillists

What I'm really trying to say is that the education, here, is pointless

~place

If you want, you can visit Terrance Hill which is not Terrace Hill, but it's not um.. any better than that.. Look, it's CREEPY! Just the other day I saw two albatross following a clown down a dark alley. I mean, every alley is dark, and dark all the time. Even in the winter. What I mean to say is if there is snow, the light still doesn't reflect off of it into the alleys. Sure it will reflect into your eyes blinding you like the underside of a compact disc with all your favorite songs on it! but not into the deep black darkness. So as I was saying, sometimes it's easier to take the easy way out.

the twiniverse: the I winiverse..
alright. here is a patch of honesty( wait a minute, I'm always honest! that's not fair. everything here is honest and true, you just picked the wrong word and you won't admit it. admit to change!
what he means to say is a patch of franks): ancient new twiniverse is my dream land. no matter where I dream, that is in the twiniverse

~place

the waterfall is the worst place ever because no one knows if it's real or not!
SURE it is tangible, but just because something is orange doesn't make it a tangerine!
You think to yourself: "humm humm wouldn't it be grand to humm a place that borders reality? I think certainly one could find herself there."
you would, MISSy.

someone's dream world exists because she thought of it
she is thinking about it right now!
if it exists because she thought of it, then she could certainly
add something to it by thinking of it again.
That's it!

sorry. the waterfall is real because it's there. I thought of it, not you girl.

~place

Dream El Dorado: most ethereal place in the twiniverse
That is what even the residents may tell you, but El Dorado is about as worldly as it comes. El Dorado has a few different districts that branch off of a main street, the main street has cobble and walks and building.. quite drum if you ask me. To turn matters worse, most of El Dorado is residential! Search me to think of anything more dull than residents!
Excuse my comments. There is the Hanging Vines district, the Whirlpool district, and the Walking Vines district.
Oh, Whirlpool district is the only one that doesn't have any residents in it. I put that in the center so as not to bore you.
I'm told that the Hanging Vines district is a fine place for a first time homeowner - you will find hanging vines, breeze, gray and more gray cobble, intermittent zephyrs, empty crates, a murky sewer, quite Aztec. But more important than the district is the community.. .
Make sure you dream up next to a nice squirrel family, I hear their parties are nuts.

twiniverse

let me say this only once.. believe and the twiniverse is real