the klown sitting before the computer hunched over the keyboard continuing typing not p0em deciding he wants ice cream.
we have chocolate fudge brownie.
but besides that everything still happens to happen which amazes and amuses the klown to no end.
he chooses to admire it doing just that for a while or so of it happening.
the klown is in love with the universe.
black crow person walking along on easy street in through the open doors of the burning theater where anyone is invited for free, however with the burning theater you take your chances.
it’s like a trip on a space ship to somewhere you don’t know.
it could be mars, or one of the stars, or a night in the bars.
does it matter whatever way it might go to follow your path toward victory?
what is victory?
sometimes another step can be victory.
but besides that, the klown learns something in a moment singularity beyond infinity (as the crow flies).
imagine that.
jungle zombie people tap dancing to some hardcore noise (annoys) shit across the universe of the stage at the burning theater.
pretending are we not idiots only goes so far.
everything crashing down.
the sounds of screaming.
if you wanna believe in a book or three.
cultural puzzle pieces of the larger picture.
learn everything by seeking everything.
$$$ will be worthless into the newest of futures.
juggling spinning digital schemes.
the klown percolates some more now and again into outta the exact instant drilling infinitesimally large holes around in his head as required by common sense.
what a view!
nothing is gained here while nothing is lost.
open wide.
the klown gets coffee and another toke.
intriguing stories about maneuvers in dark spaces with delirious dubious monsters coming to get us on our way to enlightened lands surely before us.
the way is murky clear of dull light.
dead cat cookies served in hot plastic containers on feast day when the body enjoys its torments.
the klown doesn’t go in for that sorta thing.
the klown has other options than to play the fool – that’s only to secure a position amongst the rabble.
he doesn’t always understand quite how that works, but it always seems to in its own fashion.
screw up the algorithms a bit.
make them jump and shout and twist about.
ghosts in the machine.
there’s delightful magick to it.
the klown has little idea of what this might turn out to be continuing from no beginning toward no end as it should be for what it is.
in other words, using different codes that seem familiar enough to recognize in order to gain entry into the labyrinths of logic systems of the machines.
yahoo!’
it’s only all numbers anyway as is probably the same with us into the core of it – code of numbers and functions.
memorized answers to any predictable questions.
as the klown’s breathing gets worse than before, he pops a red cinnamon gummy bear into his mouth.
a certain amount of rat turds allowed (required?) in our food.
happiness can be found in its own pursuit.
FACT: the object of the project is the project.
FACT: some believe logic never fails.
FACT: gazorbnik.
gazorbnik 