'It seems very pretty,' she said when she had finished it, 'but it's rather hard to understand! Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas - only I don't exactly know what they are! However, somebody killed something: that's clear, at any rate -'
-Alice
'It is not reality, although you can express reality there if you wish. You are also free to write nonsense, or lies, or to tear pages.'
-The King
'Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog; it's too dark to read.'
-The Fool
Sentence: Life goes on within you, but be sure the cosmos in all it's glory won't blink at your passing on, over, out, and beyond.
Satori:
O, Brave New Worlds!
Mantra:
Ride-on,-Right-on
Fossick:
The Meaning.
The Meaning: Large as Life and Twice as Natural
This Book the Second is the ineffable recycled air of my own (word; Bullshit, or Nonsense, or Library, or Imagination, or Delusion, or whatnot)
There is no real point to be had with any of this and Beta Ineffable is the recycled by-product of a war between my sub-conscious and conscious and a vague attempt by my meager intelligence, little wit, and scattered memory attempting to get a word in edge wise; Book the Second differs from it's former expired composition, which was a damaged egos vague desperate calls for attention only to be answered by an infinitely lonely self serving mind;
Book the Second has been an entire work of Fiction; defiling a compiling of greater and noble other works of complete bullshit and nonsense;
Every aspect of Book the Second is entirely false, and should be treated as such. Any one unfortunate enough to have wasted time digesting this degenerate mind feces will in fact not be compensated for lost time.
Those who don't understand Book the Second have lost the maidenhead of there childhood interest, or still deep in the virginity of intelligence.
Those who do understand Book the Second are looking too much into it, and are fully encouraged by fictional characters of my own imagination to look through it instead; to tumble down the rabbit whole of ignorance and fantasy (but I repeat myself...) and end up where the former group lies.
Those who merely enjoyed Book the Second missing the whole point entirely and will never ever accomplish a thing of value, worth, or wealth in their lives.
That being said; if there is any readers left at this point, the fictional characters of my delusional and damaged imagination are prepared to carry out my orders and have them shot.
Therefore: the end of the trilogy, the triplex of complex meaningless phrases, words, and punctuations will be left entirely for my own bitter enjoyment, colossal misinterpretation,
and the recycled air of brainwaves and bad ideas will come to a climax quicker than a virgin's premature ejaculation, and be resolved like the Civil Rights War.
Rest in Peace may this piece of poetic and polluted composition of many characters that conjoin and multiply, and through association and position form the physical and visible expression of thought (no matter how inhumane) which are infinitely open for interpretation, manipulation, and miscommunication.
I hereby declare this work of Fiction over:
The Characters all dead:
Esp. Z
(he wasn't of very much use)
There is no real point to be had with any of this and Beta Ineffable is the recycled by-product of a war between my sub-conscious and conscious and a vague attempt by my meager intelligence, little wit, and scattered memory attempting to get a word in edge wise; Book the Second differs from it's former expired composition, which was a damaged egos vague desperate calls for attention only to be answered by an infinitely lonely self serving mind;
Book the Second has been an entire work of Fiction; defiling a compiling of greater and noble other works of complete bullshit and nonsense;
Every aspect of Book the Second is entirely false, and should be treated as such. Any one unfortunate enough to have wasted time digesting this degenerate mind feces will in fact not be compensated for lost time.
Those who don't understand Book the Second have lost the maidenhead of there childhood interest, or still deep in the virginity of intelligence.
Those who do understand Book the Second are looking too much into it, and are fully encouraged by fictional characters of my own imagination to look through it instead; to tumble down the rabbit whole of ignorance and fantasy (but I repeat myself...) and end up where the former group lies.
Those who merely enjoyed Book the Second missing the whole point entirely and will never ever accomplish a thing of value, worth, or wealth in their lives.
That being said; if there is any readers left at this point, the fictional characters of my delusional and damaged imagination are prepared to carry out my orders and have them shot.
Therefore: the end of the trilogy, the triplex of complex meaningless phrases, words, and punctuations will be left entirely for my own bitter enjoyment, colossal misinterpretation,
and the recycled air of brainwaves and bad ideas will come to a climax quicker than a virgin's premature ejaculation, and be resolved like the Civil Rights War.
Rest in Peace may this piece of poetic and polluted composition of many characters that conjoin and multiply, and through association and position form the physical and visible expression of thought (no matter how inhumane) which are infinitely open for interpretation, manipulation, and miscommunication.
I hereby declare this work of Fiction over:
The Characters all dead:
Esp. Z
(he wasn't of very much use)
- it
No comments:
Post a Comment