and she said.. "how you interpret the dream is probably more important than the dream itself"

The air is talking to me, bugging me to be more productive and creative, asking me what my fucking bullshit problem is.

despite being a short week, what with patriot's-easter-day, you still look a little worn. what's with that?

well, I spent all day implementing opaque predicates that asyncronously update themselves on the fly, just to be confusing. if you have the slightest what that means then you might have an idea why I look so worn, otherwise you at least know it sounds like a bore.

but why do it? why not buy some spray cans and hit up the alleyways - it's a killer of a spring day

why not jump off a bridge why not take the whole week off why not why not why not eat until I burst right open and walk everywhere on my hands until my head goes full of blood and my vision blurs out to a dark nothingness and I fall, tumbling. yeah, why the hell not you fucktard?

why not have more empathy for those in worse situations than you and try not to swear so much with made-up words that belittle those with disabilities. why not forego the fake-rage where you act like you actually care one way or the other.. as if you don't.

yah, that sounds brilliant; the censorship of words. these black little character sequences we see painted everywhere, printed as if they had power, they're not the problem, you can't blame dysfunction on grammatical mistakes, you can't claim innocence for no want of speech you cannot cannot cannot say that he who never speaks sees no evil (for what you see is only thyself) or that she who does not hear cannot be bothered that evil does not sing. It sings! it sings, even if you cannot or choose not to hear it you know that, deep down, and I know that of you because you continue to pretend as if words, written down in scribbly scrawled chicken-scratches or typed out tap-tap on a typewriter can be evil; displaced anxiety, the problem is elsewhere.

but I neither see nor do I hear so it must be the words themselves that carry the weight, this blackness, the hatred, the human spirit - ed away from his fellow man by thoughts uncannily cruel; dark; the evil of the soul itself.

that's it, it's you, the nail on the head the air in itself; it's everywhere, and you are it. blind, deaf - you cannot play dumb. the mirror (mirror) on the wall, it's the most evil of them all..

if you get my drift.