| You may set the definition or find an explanation to The X Original, and you may not; the latter option is safer and even superior. People do wear numerous masks as a matter of fact; others leap into breaking that disguise by all accounts. But no matter what state they're in, or I'm in, the world remains indifferent... on a very large and absurd scale. The X Original is probably some bullcrap inapplicable and immature idea. Why is this guy insisting on impressing us? Why am I even reading this and raising questions, is it worth it? I can't believe I've read this far. You may set the definition or find an explanation to The X Original, and you may not; the latter option is safer and even superior. People do wear numerous masks as a matter of fact; others leap into breaking that disguise by all accounts. But no matter what state they're in, or I'm in, the world remains indifferent... on a very large and absurd scale. You may set the definition or find an explanation to The X Original, and you may not; the latter option is safer and even superior. People do wear numerous masks as a matter of fact; others leap into breaking that disguise by all accounts. But no matter what state they're in, or I'm in, the world remains indifferent... on a very large and absurd scale. then about what I saw at night and she said that these were only regular dreams. So I memorized the word "dreams" as my sister said it, but I don't remember asking what a dream really is or why do we dream. You may set the definition or find an explanation to The X Original, and you may not; the latter option is safer and even superior. People do wear numerous masks as a matter of fact; others leap into breaking that disguise by all accounts. But no matter what state they're in, or I'm in, the world remains indifferent... on a very large and absurd scale. numerous masks as a matter of fact; others leap into breaking that disguise by all accounts. But no matter what state they're in, or I'm in, the world remains indifferent... on a very large and absurd scale. |
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James Q. Jacobs has a lot to do with this. He's an ordinary man, I really don't know him. He may be extraordinary as well. Maybe if I met Him, he might seem ordinary, but deep inside he can be extraordinary. It's one of those moments when unreality is mirrored through virtuality, when reality makes no sense at all, where everything real becomes a mere fabric of the mind. I never thought things can get blurry like this, I never knew it was a twisted and distorted culture we live in. Not my culture in particular (in case I really have one) but anyone's culture. It's no wonder for my words not make any sense to the common. Man's biggest sin is the invention of the "status quo". It assures me somehow, that I am correct. Since I am not making logic, then only the unreal exists, the real is just an illusion. I just cannot make sense to the common. I must feel elevated, I belong to the east, and I face the west. |
| I wrote some poems last Thursday. I am not totally convinced because I'm not really sure how concerned I am with them, I was lost whom was I writing poems about. But then I could not care less. I wrote: "I would hide behind bombs and stare Nothing's worth a care I long for those firm grounds behind glowing bridges But I'm still younger than that shadow of grass on the wall" I always thought I wrote in a very implicitly aggresive tone, as if fucking the world for not compromising with me. I hate that. Another thing I wrote: "A few, just a few particles of dust Scattered over various orders of rust A call for silence whispered in The morning vulture neutralized the sin" I think this one is better, at least you can ignore it and not feel sorry about the author.. I've always felt that tendency to write, write anything, and I don't mind what I write as long as it doesn't bother me. I'm not too crazy about poetry, I don't hate it, but it's just that I'm not that much inspired to write rhymed and rhythmic poetry, neither am I very consistent at reading poetry. |
She surfed the web all day, just like websurfers do it on desktops. Later, she saw the virtual ocean overflowing with useless cybertrash. She got over one hundred hits as abductive multi-logging helped her navigate the Net. She then noticed that image piracy is a common web practice; however, she knows that the information highway is the road to the future, and that this superhighway needs public support. She spent the next hour downloading a large site, her browser has too many crashes. Fewer people are just sitting on the curb of the information highway. I guess we need more fiber-optic roadways. Isn't traffic slowed when everyone logs on in the morning or in the evening? I mean just how many daughter boards can a mother board have, and how do they do it without a dad? The fact is, her network neighborhood consists of three servers, a bus and a protocol gateway. I never knew whether she allows cookies or only handshakes. Nevermind. I will just use a mouse click to shut this window. Is this real? I think it's a little weird. |
| To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what I'm talking about. I have a vague idea, a feeling, a general direction that I'm pointing in, but beyond that, nothing. I have to aim eventhough there is no target, but aiming is higher ground. I can still remember some crazy days when I was just around two years old. That was the period, I still recall, when I saw my first dream, at night perhaps. It was an image of a coned head cap, which people used to wear on birthday parties, floating nearby the doorway of my bedroom in our house in old Liberia. That, I guess, was late in 1981. The other image I can call to mind in that single stream of dreams was a large portrait of Antoon Saadeh (founder and leader of a Syrian social/political party) hanging on the back window of a little white bus that my father owned in Liberia. At first I really thought that the dream I saw was sort of a reality and that it was basically true or something… I never even raised my doubts about how a cone-cap could just float or fly like that by my door, while everything else is as normal as it is in our world. I remember telling my older sister back |
| You may set the definition or find an explanation to The X Original, and you may not; the latter option is safer and even superior. People do wear |
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