Book idea? Basically, an insane asylum specialized for philosophers who have gone mad.


Sometimes I think I’m lacking in that blind optimism that makes life tolerable. The alarm rings. This is the ‘asscrack’ of dawn. I didn’t come up with that. Who comes up with anything? If author’s were honest, they’d put their whole text in huge quotation marks. Honesty, what a joke. The funny thing about that is, the fact that everyone falls for it.
Hello. I am speaking in a guild of affected philosophers. The logicians are death-threatening the obscure paradox philosophers. As usual, the nihilists are driving everyone mad. Then again, even a madman needs an occupation. Can’t take that away from them.
My room mate thinks he found the meaning of life. He says it’s a recipe he found in a cookbook. Why-
Wait. I never say why. When one asks why, the questions never end. Why anything? Why, why? Stop. STOP.
He’s having his laughing session. Earplugs thankyou. Thirty minutes and it will be all over. Stupid recipe, driving me mad. After the laughing session he will have a weeping session. He must weep. Mercifully, he is a blank the rest of the day. No, I did not alter his recipe. There’s no change if nobody notices.

Well that was fast, the pain is only temporary.

sulking is done.

Feeling Morbid?

The Downward Spiral - Nine Inch Nails always gives me a horribly morbid satisfaction.

What happens in the song:

Strange noises as usualy, kinda underwatery..machinistic.

Melancholy Music (quiet piano). Tons of intro music. guitar. Climaxing slightly. Rising action. Drops, rising action.

*horrible bloodcurdling screams* (which continues for the duration of the song)

You hear the creepiest voice on top of the screaming (it's not a loud creepy voice, it's a very subtle creepy voice, barely audible):

"He couldn't believe how easy it was.
He put a gun into his face
Banggg.
So much blood for such a tiny little hole.

Problems do have solutions you know.
A lifetime of fucking things up: Fixed.
In one determined flash.

Everything is blue in this world.
The deepest shade of mushroom blue.
Fuzzy.
Spilling out of my head."

I like..

I like:

how people say 'don't message me on the basis of my photo' when they photographed themselves half-naked in a bathroom. And have approx. two sentences in their description.

It's funny. In a sad pathetic sort of way.

I'm writing an english paper on how the authors of a poem and novel use temporal manipulation to put explore the theme of mortality.

fun</sarcasm>

What happened to the nice Carrie? The evil Carrie locked her up in a box. Well, that's the problem with nice people, they aren't evil enough.

Now that is a circular arguement by definition.