Print Story A Treatise on the Self
Really I am just typing this up here because I cannot get to Q.com properly while I'm out of town. I hope that hulver isn't offended by such awkward misuse of his bandwidth and I wouldn't expect you fine people to really get it anyway. Just move on, this is for my posterity.


There's this set of sytrofoam cups they delivered to me the other night when I ordered food. They're sort of sitting sideways on the desk where my laser mouse that glows blue hits them in this eerie tunnel vision mask of yesteryear. Whenever I choose to click on a link it flickers as though the cups are always on the brink of almost going out.

It is a shameful thing to kill oneself in ways. I have now killed what I was becoming... partly out of some semblance of need for the organism as a whole and partly because I was scared of that beast; but he is done and dead.

at least he left me with the gift of walking. Thank you strange thing, though I will never really know you; my strange aborted self, I know you. I know you.

There's something else here though, a festering boiling cauldron of something under the surface.

It means the bridge breaks or I throw myself off of it or my geiger counter is all fucked up. Most likely the latter as that's been the case for years and years now.

Seriously, you'd think I was old hat at this stuff by this point.

That's the problem with humans, we never learn.

That's also the problem with hotel rooms and solitude for an extended period, you spend more time in your head than is healthy; which, I do anyway. This means you think things like this:

"Perception is invalidated by the thoughtstorm. If one has to ascribe something to another thing then the original thing becomes that thing itself. Therefore, everything is questionable and that which appears to be not so is doubly so at its very core. The core is something we throw away because arsenic builds up in the system and is never fully released, yet without it we would not have the internal heat of the mantle. Through this, one knows the place is over the pulpit and fire with brimstone is better than that without but orphans are not those who should complain. I would, indeed, sew mouths shut if I heard such happening from my lips, but my lips were never meant for kissing."

These are the things you think when it's 2 am and you can't sleep and you have another day of Sacramento ahead of you. (I mean 2 am in a prior night, not tonight obviously because it is only 9:30.)

If you read this, I am sorry; and thanks. I feel better.

-Q

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A Treatise on the Self | 12 comments (12 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback
caffeinated butterflies by wiredog (4.00 / 1) #1 Tue Apr 25, 2006 at 02:38:19 AM EST
Sounds yummy.

Earth First!
(We can strip mine the rest later.)

Never seen a bluer sky... by superdiva (4.00 / 2) #2 Tue Apr 25, 2006 at 02:50:31 AM EST
At my last stay at a hotel room a couple of months ago the hotel had this 24 hour yoga channel which basically played the same 30 minutes yoga workout 48 times.

My surreal hotel moment was when I found myself watching this yoga channel for hours late at night, sipping a double scotch (a 12-year old Macallan, and trying to fall asleep even as the sunrise started creeping out behind the office buildings.

Airport terminals are much more interesting.

Anyway, if the Beast is officially gone, then I'm going to have to put my $50 on Sin Tax to win the diary throwdown.

_________________________________________________


For we are many....

Heh... by MisterQueue (4.00 / 1) #3 Tue Apr 25, 2006 at 04:15:12 AM EST
I would not be so quick to judge... Sin may be wiry but I'm a sick fuck.


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"I always percieved the Q to be more about laughing at sadness, not laughing per se." -infinitera

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Shenanigans! by ni (4.00 / 1) #4 Tue Apr 25, 2006 at 11:41:17 AM EST
but my lips were never meant for kissing.

I have pictures, bucko. PICTURES!


Think metahistorically, act locally. -- CheeseburgerBrown

Liar by MisterQueue (2.00 / 0) #5 Tue Apr 25, 2006 at 12:18:14 PM EST
You have no such thing. I believe that was terpy.


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"I always percieved the Q to be more about laughing at sadness, not laughing per se." -infinitera

[ Parent ]
getting lost in my head by MillMan (4.00 / 1) #6 Tue Apr 25, 2006 at 02:35:07 PM EST
is dangerous, and I do it too often. It's grotesque up in there.

Everybody still hates me in this city and I hate everybody.

I fuckin' live there by MisterQueue (4.00 / 1) #7 Tue Apr 25, 2006 at 02:46:25 PM EST
Serious. Even around people I'm in my head 95% of the time; unless I meet a kindred spirit.. then the shit just comes.

That's a whole other story though. I find the best way to get out of your head is just to dive in, eventually you won't even notice what's real anymore.


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"I always percieved the Q to be more about laughing at sadness, not laughing per se." -infinitera

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2 am is a dangerous time... by clock (4.00 / 1) #8 Tue Apr 25, 2006 at 04:45:25 PM EST
...it's too late to consider things seriously and just a touch too early to think that sleep will help.  a million nights at 2 am in a week will damn near kill a man.

you're a beautiful fucker.  don't forget that.

sicko.


I agree with clock entirely --Kellnerin

heh.. thanks by MisterQueue (4.00 / 1) #9 Tue Apr 25, 2006 at 05:50:55 PM EST
though somehow I don't believe you, but I wouldn't believe anyone saying that. but thank you.


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"I always percieved the Q to be more about laughing at sadness, not laughing per se." -infinitera

[ Parent ]
dang by moonvine (4.00 / 1) #10 Wed Apr 26, 2006 at 07:41:34 PM EST
so tired. will post reply later. like butter flies. have flower. will deliver.

flutter flutter by MisterQueue (2.00 / 0) #11 Thu Apr 27, 2006 at 05:32:01 AM EST
daaang... who knew I was all pollen filled.


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"I always percieved the Q to be more about laughing at sadness, not laughing per se." -infinitera

[ Parent ]
silly man by moonvine (4.00 / 1) #12 Fri Apr 28, 2006 at 06:36:38 PM EST
get some sleepy time- lack of sleep- i can relate all too well- you crazy darling boy : )



[ Parent ]
A Treatise on the Self | 12 comments (12 topical, 0 hidden) | Trackback