live blogging

the last entry cant be beat. you should really go down and read that. because thats the start of me live blogging myself. here we are at central station and everything.



the scene opens up on dark-chocolate cookie paste ruminating in the gums where the tongue and jaw work seamlessly without any commands to loosen this paste into the gullet of taste. scrape and drag, working along negotiating cookie in the flaps of where talk comes out.



recalling a memory that just passed, back there it is black or wine coloured.


it looks, quite frankly, like death back there.



there was enough time spent,
checking out these so called mannerisms and social habits
im used to flashing everyone with. instead
i looked myself squarely in the eye and prepared for the worst.


to tell you the truth, the first thing i noticed was myself.

im feminine in the first reflection (thankfully!) and masculine in the reflection in the reflection.

but dont go ahead and use your own logic in this story, the one supplied to has plenty to go around. there's a legend around here somewhere.



a double reflection is certainly, and most clearly, not a double negation.



pause.

where was i?

i just made the gruesome and learned mistake of capitalizing myself. so there are backspaces in this story, if you want to get judgmental and everything. if you are adding it up.



the mannerisms were plenty distracting to the real task of putting myself together for myself.

they are catchy and playful and are never meant in the ways i could never know i use them.


thats certainly a lie if by definition i could recognize the impossibility of recognizing it as such.




look at all these clever logic operations, this is where the legend is. it is the era of decadence now. baroque. think of wine-stain-coloured wood in buildings with tall ceilings and already you are building the fortress with me.






FUCK im so bossy when it comes to this. im clearly just dragging you along for a story here .
i never promised it would be any good for anything.




the damned thing is, im going to let you know that its five or six minutes passed three. past or passed? does anyone care about the rules anymore?

GET OUT OF MY STORY THEN!!!



where was i.


right.


i was letting you know something.
i'll let you in on a little secret:

come back sometime.
whenever you can.

get the hell out of where you are even if you think its a good idea or not.

its probably better if it seems like a bad idea.



the story cant tell if its coming or going


ive just never been good at goodbyes or good endings.

no, just ask anyone i used to know.









they will say, hey, i wasnt really sure if it even was a good bye.







what babble!






as the story closes in on itself, what could be said except that the tone of correction will always prick our stone age madness.



---

(end).


i hope you enjoyed that. if you didnt go away what do i care!