Doormouse

That said, creation, preservation and destruction feed your head.

Those dead walking as animated dirt.

In bed dreams passing the night away.

A reality wed, and the wave can't stop.

977

one

Decree

Everything is made of toast. Doesn't matter... rye, spelt, white, white, cracked wheat, rolled wheat, crutons, it's covered. It's all just toast. You man are toast and to toast you shall return. Even bacon is made of toast. Furthermore, nothing can move faster than toast. Given that everything is toast this is not as complicated as one may initially believe. Toast is simply the limiting factor in the universe. Until this thing called a photon came along. Now it's claiming the thrown. The idea being that photons move faster than toast. Which I won't believe until I see it.

Contradictory perhaps, but nobody is going to convince me otherwise. Photons or no photons. All I got to say is that until I open my eyes all I got to eat is toast. Which is a fine feast. Unless you're a complainer and malinger of all this toasted creation.

Heh, word just came in that these photon things have a speed limit. Toast has no speed limit. In fact it communicates faster and beyond the ken of the light limit. Smoke that Einsteinian physics. You lose. Toast has one. It's very existence being one of show and disproving that light is fastest. In the end, there can be, only one. Its name is toast.

Strainer

People watching is fun. Especially when they are deceased or crazy. The Gene Levy prototype hair man is especially fascinating in regards to what kind of frozen vegetables a man like that would buy and keep in his freezer.


My guess is pre-sliced wavy french fries.

Opaque

What is most cool about the brain is its ability to block things out.

Everything, everywhere is totally happening now.

Look around. See? Too bad you can't see too far, or too through many other things.

Then you'd see everything all over the world happening at the same time.

All the birds, bees, trees, snakes, gardens, waves and raves.

Flying, buzzing, hissing, basking, crashing and thrashing.

All at the same time.

Then your head would hurt. All the aspirin trees would be cut down and biodiversity and future headache relief would be impared.

All because you see too much.

Not to mention that it seems like it would violate some laws of nature, probability and like Schrodinger's cat would get REALLY pissed if you saw into his box.

Guess alls well that ends.

Seagull

Close your mouth and open your eyes. Or yeah, go back to eating, being fat and happy, and nom nom nom your way through all the nuts on the tree. Mr. Squirrel you are living it large. But next year, the tree mold is likely going to take out your prized black walnut tree. This means no more nuts. No more dropping nuts on my house at 5am. No more chattering, no more frolicking sex in the yard. Though maybe it won't come to pass and somehow the tree is going to pull through the epidemic and not come down. Would be nice. Personally I'm skeptical of my plan to create a squirrel-fur umbrella-shade to help shade and cool the house after the tree is gone. Could be time to talk to the druids. They may help, but likely for a price. There is always a price with those gypsies. Last I checked they didn't take plastic and they didn't take squirrels. First-born, other trees, groves, glades, virgins --yes! Other things, no. So now here this. Low-cost provider druids who don't mind taking a bicycle with one broken wheel (it's almost in riding shape) are encouraged to congregate and conclave in the little enclave behind the domicile. There you can refresh yourself, eat grapes, relax and squabble of the rights to the mostly working bike. First one to conclusively save the tree rides off a winner. The rest of you are walking to memphis. I don't care if it's hot and the pyramids are not what they used to be. At least you don't have to swim there this time. This time you got the ability to float and pass through things going for you. Be nice and get the freaking little squirrels to leave along with saving the tree and there may just be a plate of buffalo wings in the deal for you. Food got you down you say. Nevermind. Maybe it'll just be a saucer of milk and some candles then.

Jicima

If I was made of wood flooring I would call myself Mister Kestrel.

If I was sitting on a mantle I would call myself art.

If I was inanimate I would not call myself, nobody would offer me a reduced rate and free cell-phone to join now.

If I was anything else I wouldn't be what isn't on my shelf.

Random Thoughts

Slippage sometimes occurs on at the worst times. In an MD500 while skirting the edge of a cliff and the collective on full or as a 300 pound man in tight shorts sits next to your table in a cafe with no air-conditioning. In cases such as these it is best to remember that grease may be a lubricant but may not be the best choice for all situations.

Cinder cones may be covered in snow. Snow cones should not be covered in cinders. Unless as a resident of Dante's seventh level you find that appetizing.

Midnights Children they may be, but midnight may only be relevant in the garden of good and evil.

Toasted wheat snacks.

Creche

Interesting how symmetry works so very well sometimes.
Nests being one of those times, a priori style. Nevermind the causality thing trying to get in the way, it simply doesn't get in the way really.

Not even in cases where little crows attempt to bypass the world of appearances and skew things into a darkness without bound.