TBH, this pretty much reflects my entire attitude at the moment towards the world, life and all other humans.
How then dost thou achieve this balance between life and that-which-is-not-life, this thing which keeps thee conscious yet unalive? (Roger Zelazny - The Man Who Loved the Faioli)
If you are colorblind, by the time you are an adult you are very tired of playing the "what color is this" game. Proceed at your own risk. You were warned.
Happy Monday! Wait, is it Monday? It was a weekend, wasn't it? Anyway. I am sure it is a day. Another day. Another day filled with happy thoughts. Enjoy!
Most writers have had this thought at some point in their life. Many, more than once. An unlucky few - let's not go there today. You just play the hand your dealt, as best you can.
More real-world colorblind "humor". The dreaded single-flashing (caution/stop) intersection - the bane of my driving existence. Remember this if you ever dare get in the car with me.
One ponders how to bring a grievance of a "cruel and unusual" punishment before the ultimate "Supreme Court"? Anyone have Zeus' number? Or an email address for the Pantheon? Asking for a friend.
Happy Monday! Happy thoughts! Probability + Psychology = Absurdity. An option with known odds is preferred over one filled with uncertainty. What or who is behind door number 2?
At the end of my dreams I often experience intricate, geometric, kaleidoscope-like animations. Brain cancer or glitches in my nightly sim-download? (I gave-up on the Rube Goldberg device - it got too messy).
Everyone has their breaking point. Today is mine. Happy summer!
This is the result of a philosophical musing I had with my dog last night. It may be a warning sign that I need to find other humans to talk to. Then again, humans?
I feel an obligation to sacrifice my lede wrapper for a public service announcement. There is a fine line between inhabiting an emotional state and rationalizing mental illness as an identity. If confused or in doubt, seek professional help - there really are other emotions. Or so I am told.
Honestly, I am too exhausted to dig. I am going to have to go out, find a deep hole, fling myself in and hope for the worst.
I'll accept methods of compression with a "conduit". But you'll never convince me that a transporter is anything but the most painful way to die. Although, imagine all the fun pranks you could pull on April Fools Day!
This adventure - and the genie's attempt at freedom - is over and they head home for a few weeks. Is a magic lamp a broken TARDIS? Are genies exiled Time Lords? Does their life have meaning? Why do these sound like bad song lyrics?
My simple test for the perfect soul mate - is this funny? An aggressive "WTF is wrong with you" smirk is also an acceptable response.
Subtly inspired by one of my favorite movies. I'm sure that says something about me. And my current state of mind. None of it good. A question. How and when do you determine - that there is no point?
The definition of apathy? If I tripped and fell, landing face first in an inch-deep puddle of water ... I would drown. Haha. Such poor wit. Teach me how I should forget to think?
Of the billions of souls on this planet, only two are curious enough to see if I am still breathing every morning. Although, I am not entirely convinced their interest is motivated by love.
I honestly think the Universe is now exacting its collective revenge on behalf of all the souls I have tortured. Cool. Here is a fun metaphorically logical pun amid the irony of being the only person in the history of the world with my name.