Theories of solpisism. The secret wars. Drug induced peace. A population of chemical reactions that function like disheveled mechanical life sized dolls. Analogies of magnesium craniums attached to the basis for excess machineries. In and out. On and off. Dissolution of binaries of consumption. Cat's cradle.
The story is too terrible. I don't know that I want to write it. I wanted a companion, an equal. Don't know if I can find that in an uncontrollable catastrophe. At least I disproved radioactivity. Too many drugs equals magnetic force of addiction and compulsion. The staples of food seem less desirable. Water is in plentitude. News of the drought came from mismanaged instruments in Californian chapparal ecosystem.
Used to know lonliness. Now I feel plaintive and a bit psychic. Wonder what happened to the other water bearers. Am I solely here to live? Beauty, Truth, Fortitude, Wisdoms. Explore reactive capacities in others? Am I here to catalog the external human as a set of rote functions, bonded to a chemical/magnetic prison? Gravity is too fun to contemplate. So are outdated models of existence. I look around furtively. Could a more plaintive melody be played? I wonder. What tore this world assunder? Was it inhumane cruelties that got canceled by some kind of rebound force, a protective layer encouraging Life? Or is it just Beauty, or Just Beauty.
Why do I like looking at pictures of native naked women? Was I a traveler to this Earth? An everloving fucking colonizer with amnesia? Or a dream enthusiast who wanted to destroy ugliness by releasing the captivating bonds of an Art too indescribable for word or template?
I want to throw external garbage in the trash. I do not know any longer, about the Copernican model of the solar system because it seems like older garbage from hundreds of years ago. How long will I live? I am clean, I inspected, but am I immortal and soulful without wounds? I have some measure of nervousness as to how long this will last. Maybe later I should clean and inspect the cabin. It seems acrid right now, like an old environment, too much ash in the air, but the ash should soak up water moisture and spread it around in globules instead of the standard regular dispersion, which seems ok for now. Smoking is something to contemplate, as is smokeing. What are the effects? "Smoking" is a misunderstood term for something worse than lightening warfare, and old throwback to magnets with parallels to zombieizm inherent in atmospheric magnetic events. Everytime I want to look up census information I feel balked. How much of it is accurate? Maybe I can only trust my own perceptions on the matter and feelings. I feel Like I am the last one alive, thought I feel sane. My mental health waned with too much alcohol consumption, but sobriety has been completed after a water regimen lasting only eight hours. These things are important to catalog. This is the beginning of my electronic journal. The thoughts and impressions are mine alone, and have little to do with intellectual parasitism beyond maybe the English language. English conotates spin as a rule in billards. Do not do the language and truth a disservice, and it will be fine. I am gravitating again towards food. But what I learned is salient and observed. Water will act like a forcefield, soft and yielding yet hard when attacked. Ice is impenitrable. These misspellings, they are just my individual takes on the language and translatable by life. Is there any Life left?
Change in habits perhaps. No more drinking beer unless there is an emergency psychological evaluation. Less spending of money. More clothing?
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