Lingering Thoughts
I needed gas on the way home so why not stop by the very place that continues to rob me? It's unavoidable anyway, might as well do it broadly. Spills oil and waste in the ocean directly, pays a fine, sprays even more chemical into the sea, say they did a great job, how it's fine. Down the currents, wildlife, reefs, anything it touches, just rotted, gangrene, into a puddle of muck.
TIL meditated murder.
Premeditation, not so much. Too much work.
Never been much of a planner, playing things by ear. I just utilize the same templates across multiple spheres, I'm a showman of sorts in certain capacities. I have experience doing just about anything.
But I'm lacking a job that takes advantage of all I'm worth. No category for the skills I've got up my sleeves. All just hobbies, really.
Really.
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I find myself at odds once again with a fork in the road. So many possibilities, yet very few solutions. If anything, only one winning answer, yet it continues to elude me. What I find rather strange is I've yet to see the patterns I'm used to seeing when a puzzle is solved, even the right direction, you can tell by feel. Definitely not feeling it yet, but it could be I just don't know the lines well enough just yet.
I mull over the intersecting lines, the parallel structures, the frameworks that scaffold the topography of raw thoughts. It's a mystery. Unable to collapse on an answer, stuck in limbo, waiting for the hammer to fall.
My toes are a bit cold. Perhaps a shower is in order.
The name Keith Anderson appears in my head.
Who the fuck is that?
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I abandoned quite a bit of followers leaving social media. Oh well, probably bots. I've already reiterated the fact only what I distinguish in actuality is my objective reality. Sorry, I literally get surveilled 24/7 by federal agents for chain of thought related to "danger" or "terrorism" for speaking out about underground networks of corruption and rot.
what you want me to do? cluck?
not like you gave a fuck.
ever.
so dont act like you're any better. I left what I control, it was never under my ownership. It was under a terms of service agreement by 3rd party. I don't validate that as a true relationship. Even here, not my ownership. Nothing on the internet is.
Only what I can touch can touch me now. What ends up here is what dribbled out of my ear and made it to pixel. Nothing but smoke and fumes of what I leave on purpose.
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I cut off a line of thought out of restraint. Not worth it. My emotions are better invested elsewhere.
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What I hope for now is just a better tomorrow. If I ever find out who orchestrates the whole epstein thing, I'll do a lot of meditation on that. Probably my life's work. The one thing that I refuse to ever accept. The one thing that's gone on for hundreds of years. I wish to kill that. Rip it apart piece by piece. I want to see its heart beating as I flay flesh by flesh. Bone and sinew exposed, muscular definition show like an exhibit. All while surgically accurate. Let each cut feel like 1000, each millimeter felt for eons.
Efficiently, like a machine, masterfully, like a sushi master cutting a still alive fish, releasing it back in the tank to let it swim. Unaware that its flesh and organs are gone. Only the head and spine still firing signals to parts no longer visual.
Oh, what a feast it shall be. The loins of scum, laid out for me. The rotted instruments that manipulate society, deconstructed bit by bit, modular, decisively. If one were to see it, I'd want them to believe it was lego pieces. Perfectly fits back together, but displayed on a silver platter.
It whets my appetite, it hones my blade, I wish to see, that end of the everglades.
As the light from their eye fades, their world slowly turns from color to grey, I wish to say "good bye" as the last thing they heard any one say.
Only good boys get tucked in.
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what an intense line of thinking.
probably good to leave that abandoned under a bridge with some homeless people.
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good thing i got out of there.
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imagine a situation so bad that direct messaging global elites was preferable.
wow, what a dumpster fire of a sitch.
you may say i'm a dreamer, but i'm not the only one.
i'm just smart enough to not join that.
or rather dumb enough if you ask them. they use the metric system and call it imperial. might as well call it the empire system because they roll out carpet on every floor. 1 (800) 588-2300, empire
yup, definitely can't remember 10 digits. My spare phone password isnt just a string of numbers from a barcode on the back of a pack of cigarettes.
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I catch up to where I was in thought, then get immediately dragged in a different direction. How sickening. The only time I ever feel carsick is when someone else is driving and I'm attempting to read something. It immediately makes me nauseous. Fresh air helps a little bit, but its always been the case since I was a child.
As long as I'm not reading, its fine. It could be a magazine, a phone, a manual, whatever. If it requires some level of focus and thought unrelated to my current motion in space, that causes equilibrium issues.
Seems this pattern is true when it comes to society. The more I read, the more it bugs me. My thoughts feel the same way. The uncollapsed conditions around my circumstances continue to destabilize me, adding to the pressure cooker.
Oh, how I just wish for a release after this awful weather. Sleepless? Rather cheap dress. Cheap perfume and poor taste. The bougie smell of excess waste. The bankers remoulade and shot of bacardi. I wish to sink their yachts of posterity. Written for the covenant of their austerity. In nomine patris, et fili, et spiritus sancti. amen.
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Going back to a topic regarding more helpful matters:
"If I'm constantly pretending, how do I know when I'm not"
It's better to look at the objective facts to support yourself. If the matters were tended to, then there is no falsehood for that action. Beyond that is interpretation.
So whatever you think you pretend, remove all the elements irrelevant to the direct cause and direct effect. That is the facts.
So whatever isnt, is up in the air, never defined and will stay that way.
afterall, life is random at best, predetermined at worst.
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Writing is my only compulsion. Over and over, ad nausuem. Same concepts worded differently. Attempting to get everything out. Hoping it eventually stops so I can focus on other things. Havent been able to write lyrics, just one off rhymes here and there. Not sure if I'll write lyrics again, it was a rare instance of being struck by passion only to fizzle. Never made it beyond words, churned into Suno and incomplete. I guess that's just how it goes.
Weird how I never had issues jotting down thoughts, although infrequent. Seems gathering words and putting them down is relatively easy for me. Whether it serves a purpose beyond recording what I thought at a point in time is not important.
I do find it saddening. Collapsing the wistful dreams of my imagination into reality. It's far too much for one person to withstand, an existence written between tides in the sand. Addressed to no one, read by no one, erased by the shoreline.
I suppose a bullet to my head would end things rather quickly. It's always the back up plan. When I get sick of living this shittily. Though if I'm going out with a bang, I'll make it a party. A lemon party. Let the boys get one last chance at soggy biscuit before they get terminated by my hands.
I got a big list of guests I'd like to attend.
I'll send the invitations out door to door.
Let's get linked in.
https://chatgpt.com/s/t_69883894abd081919bc6c619f5cb849b
Just like old times. We'll do it under the table. With a loaded hand.
I'd love to see your face with blood on your hands. Hard to pretend you can't see that.
Record it for me, I'll watch it when I come back.
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I'm reaching the point where as long as society deems that person VIP, then that's good enough for me. Since I value myself so greatly, I would like a head that weighs as much as mine. 16 stones. If we add the list, I think we have enough.
Perhaps during a meeting so everyone can be together for once. It's important to be punctual if you're a professional, isn't that only manners?
We can use these books as scales.
They're light reading material.
I'm sure they're plenty of weight for an accurate reading though.
I've read excerpts from all the past year. If you allow me the usage of AI, I think we can be very objective regarding.....perspectives and facts.
I very much look forward to the RSVP, whenever that may be. I'll keep my neck clean for the occasion. Shoot me an email to confirm, I'll shoot you back to let you know it's a 10-4.
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heh.
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