Final: Untitled 4 (It Comes to us All)

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Not sure what happened here. Realised I was doing something, tried to stick to it as much as I could. I think it works well enough. Could be better, sure, but well enough for one listen.

Final’s “Untitled” is from It Comes to Us All. All of the album’s tracks are untitled,  and this is the fourth on the album.

As a side note, here’s a review of the album that I wrote a few years ago.

I hope you enjoy.

—

Increasing, growing, wavering, pulsing, layering. Growing, growing, becoming big, becoming massive, overwhelming, filling the space, then receding.

Growing, filling the space, some sound pulls away, sound changes, almost like rotating on an axis, and as it passes the melody moves through its stages.

Shrinking away, shrinking, then coming back. Pulsing warm, pulsing cold. Pulsing comfort. Continuous, drifting away. Drifting back, returning, following rings, following loops, as still as in motion.

Filling space, filling up, buzzing, filling space, dissipating, disappearing, wavering out of existence, shrinking, compressing, disappearing, fading away, and the song ends.

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Record Digging – Draft

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

So here’s this thing that I wrote, then decided could be the start of an essay on record digging. The full thing won’t be done by the time Stupidity Hole stops, so I figured it’d be worth sharing this now.

The final version of this essay will be published on From Somewhere out the Back. If you’ve been following my stuff here long enough, then you’ll recognise the name as the title for when I write about music releases in my music collection. I’d been intending to dedicate a space for those pieces for a while, and of course rather than hold to that, the space expanded to more than just music.

The draft below is just to give an idea of progress.

I hope you enjoy.

—

When I was a teenager I spent a lot of time browsing through record stores looking for music. Usually these would be quick, ten, maybe twenty-minute affairs as I’d have an idea of what I wanted to buy, and usually once or twice a month, but over time the visits increased to once every week or two, and occasionally they’d be for an hour, or sometimes hours if I was visiting more than one.

I spent a lot of time hunting down things that were difficult to get, such as Freibentos, and when I finally got a record player, I’d move more into the record sections, digging away, trying to see what came up. Before then, however, I did a dig at Goulds in Newtown, back in its old location. I dug through stacks of records and books, and unearthed Murder, Inc., Prong and An Emotional Fish. Good times.

But I spent a lot of time digging and listening, and I mean really listening to music, just taking it all in, being obsessed, but not so obsessed that I regretted doing my marine science degree.

My friend Ewe once told me that my knowledge of music was encyclopedic. I don’t think my knowledge is that advanced and probably never will be, but I am good at pulling out stuff that people might not know about artists they like, and I’m also good at finding stuff that people may like. Who isn’t, though? It just takes time and paying attention, and hoping you develop a good enough ear and understanding to be good at putting something forward.

I remember once someone trying to tell me the release order of some Godflesh stuff, and knowing that they were wrong. Shame. I also remember wanting to work in a record store. Still would be happy to, but I live in Sydney which makes it a challenge to do so these days. But I digress.

I’d flip through stacks and shelves, look at each record carefully, see what came forward. It’s what helped me get into Miles Davis. Would buy a record, bring it home, spin it when viable. Listen. Take it in, work toward understanding what I was hearing. What was going on.

In a some ways music as a physical format has been superseded, but there’s still something about the time investment a good-sounding record provides. You have to take it out of its sleeve, turn on the record player, get the needle in the right position, lower it, put it on. A record can be unwieldy, but its an intentional time investment. You have to be a participant in putting it on to listen to it, and so usually you’re making time to listen to one. You can put a record on in the background, but the issue there is that you’re going to be drawn back when it ends. You have to flip it, so when you put a record on you’re dedicating time and spending time with it. You’re making an intentional decision about how you want to hear and engage with music that requires some physical action.

I haven’t gone digging for a while. The convenience of being able to jump online and order, or just even put on a digital copy of an album is great. So much less time, but I feel that I’m not listening to stuff the same way. I’m still hungry; I’m still looking for stuff, seeing what comes up and I’m still listening, but there’s less time involved and the convenience takes away from the ritual, I feel. I don’t know if I could claim that this is a bad thing, however; it’s the way it is, but for what is gained something is lost, and that same kind of intimacy just isn’t there.

The last dig I did was at a record fare in Bathurst a couple of years ago. I was visiting Ewe and Anna, there was a fare on, so Ewen and I went down. Most of everything was overpriced, and nothing in particular caught our fancy, and sometimes that’s the way it is. It was still an enjoyable time in a way. The process of flipping through records, seeing what there is, and maybe something catches your eye. It can be like looking for a book, but not necessarily knowing how it’ll appear to you.

Sometimes you dig for stuff and you come across something by someone you’re familiar with, or something catches your eye and you don’t have an idea of how it’ll sound. If it turns out to be something you don’t enjoy, you’re still gaining something from what you’re hearing.

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Car Rant

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

I’m still hunting for a car. I’m doing it slowly as I don’t need one, and I especially don’t need one right now, but I am still hunting. Still trying to find one that I can be happy with and all that stuff. But it’s taking time, and I want something more modern with fewer bells and whistles.

An older car, it gets damaged, you take it to the mechanics and they fix it. They get the parts you need, whack the car a few times and suddenly it works again. It’s almost as though it was never damaged. Amazing stuff. Powerful. It’s great. You see a car as a pile of debris go in and then it comes out as though it was never damaged. Blows my mind.

You get a new car and they have a bunch of stuff I don’t want. I want a small screen at most, and I want as basic a display as possible. You can’t get that. You can’t get a car without adaptive butt warming and automatic crumple horns. I just want to press the go pedal and have my car go. I don’t want to press the go pedal and have my car ask if I am sure I want to go every single time, thus forcing me to take my eyes off the road and provide a DNA sample to confirm my decision to go. I’m rolling downhill and I need to start accelerating soon to maintain speed, I don’t feel the need to get me to fart into an oscillating sanctimony purifier is conducive to going much of anywhere these days.

You put a new car in for repairs and the parts they have means it needs to go to a black market and you get a horse and cart back, and the horse is mostly dead. And it’s like, cool, well at least I have this wheel, and then they’re like nah, you’re gonna have to pay for the wheel. And you’re just screwed, and now you have to nurse this horse back to health and once you do it just fucks off because it doesn’t know you and cannot discern your motives, therefore leading to it making the decision it feels is best in the situation, given the information it has at hoof, which is very little because all it has seen is you being resentful about the fact that you’re sleeping on the floor because the horse needs the bed to get to better health.

So now you’re stuck with this horseless and wheelless cart and you can’t do a damn thing about it. You’d go buy wood to make new wheels but you’ve nothing to bring the wood back with and you don’t want to go chopping down any trees.

But then the kicker? The part that was needed for the car, the one part that should’ve been easy, finally arrives but until you get the horse and cart back to whomever has your car at this point, you’re not getting the car fixed, so now you have to go on this journey just to find a horse that did the sensible thing so you’ve got to learn about tracking a horse and all that, only to find out later it’s had a family and is doing well and the whole thing is ridiculous.

I miss my car.

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Toilet Music

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

A few weekends ago I was walking through Marrickville and past a public bathroom. I had to use it, and quite badly, so in I went. Door shuts and locks. Some smooth piano jazz version of the chorus of “What the World Needs now is Love” starts playing, and I recognise it as something I’d heard before.

Somewhere around being seventeen or eighteen, I found myself in a park near where I grew up. Might have actually been twenty-one or twenty-two, but I suspect it was before then. Anyway, I was in a park near where I grew up and I had to use the bathroom. I went in, door locked and piano music started playing. I remember some of it being quite affecting, and it was a rather bizarre experience.

This happened again a number of years later whilst walking to Balls Head… I think. I wrote about it here and I think it was during a walk to Balls Head. It was bizarre then, too. Safe to say it was a bizarre experience this time around also.

I’m wondering why this is a thing. Who thought it’d be a good idea. Is it meant to soother the waste disposal processes? Is it meant to calm the user? Why is this a thing?

It is probably there to provide a sense of calm. Help people relax, or feel relaxed. I imagine it’s stuff that you’re not meant to pay too much attention to, either, but how do I know? What is the plan? What is the aim here? I mean, if I went to the toilet and some jazz pianist started playing JAZZ at me, I’d not feel very relaxed. Was the plan to see how close to terrorising they could get before it became terrorising people? Was it to lull people into a false sense of security whilst someone’s arms slipped through a crack to take wallets from pants? I don’t know!

Sometimes I wonder about these things a bit too much, but I’m glad they exist. I imagine the idea really is to just create a calming sensation. To fill a perceived awkward space. I just find it a bit odd, myself, but I can only imagine a lot of people out there who enjoy that little extra bit. It doesn’t have to mean much of anything, though I imagine it does.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say about this thing.

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Mercury, Part 1

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Decided to share part of some writing I did a few years ago for NaNoWriMo. Terrible writing, long, boring. Awful.

I hope you enjoy.

—

It was a mostly steady day of nothing happening. There was stillness; there was lack of change. Things went on as they normally would and so business as usual was on the agenda. Purvell had been drumming away at their desk for a little while, which was preceded by a whole lot of nothing. They were needed, though they were not important, so whilst they were oft-forgotten, they were quite secure.

Purvell’s work had dried up by more than a little bit over the prior months, but when something needed to happen they were always there and ready to take care of it. Pure luck had gotten them to where they were, by dint of no one else wanting to come into assist on their job, and so their expertise outstripped anyone else’s. It also meant that they were left unfulfilled in many ways.

They’d go home later and probably dig into a good book, assuming that thy could find something they had that they were yet to read. Maybe they’d get some takeout as well. They were unsure and the boredom of it all was seeping into all facets of their life. The boredom made them indecisive as they had all this time. They couldn’t quite do whatever they wanted at work so they were left with great stretches of nothing. They also couldn’t easily assist others for if something happened that they needed to take care of, they needed to be there and be able to take care of it as quickly as possible. Sometimes they’d read over documents and see if there were any edits that needed to be made, even if strictly of the insignificant grammatical type and they’d make the edits required, but it didn’t help much and they hoped that their workload would pick up once more.

Dusk arrived and, much like the day, it didn’t feel like anything particularly noteworthy. Locusts chirping outside could be heard and whilst being able to hear them from inside was unusual, it still seemed like something bland and lacking; something that had been there since forever within the walls and something that didn’t offer anything different to the normal proceeding of things.

However, this particular dusk offered something and so Purvell got up from their desk, stretched and headed up to the telescope room. It was a brief walk and for that they were thankful as they’d get this part of their job out of the way quickly, then be able to briefly head on out and head on home.

When they reached the telescope they got into preparation as quickly as they could. This was something they’d done for years on end and it was something they knew only too well. It also meant they could spend more time observing the planet they were to observe. Whilst they wanted to get in and out, this was still something they often enjoyed as it was a break from a computer screen with a window – admittedly a good one – all day. It was a pity that this didn’t happen often enough for their liking, however.

It was not long before they were done and so, once everything was on and ready to go they took to viewing space for a brief while.

Space presented itself as a flat sheet with depth, as it always did. There was plenty to see and nothing in it at all, but it was full of everything. It seemed as small as it did overwhelming and it provided nothing whilst providing all. It was a sight of tackiness and utter brilliance and charm to behold.

They took in the view as well as they could, which sometimes was better than usual and sometimes worse than usual. Here it was about no different from usual. They enjoyed the stars and what they offered in terms of questions and possibilities, and they wondered as to why space was considered an ocean. Maybe it was due to the grand unknowing of it all; at least, in terms of what they could know at this particular point in time.

Sometimes Purvell thought about the possibility of going out into space, but it was not something that they had a strong desire for. Whilst they admired space and all that it offered, they were quite happy remaining firmly on Earth. They had the curiosity, but not the desire to explore. They preferred to crunch the numbers and try to work out what they suggested, if they did indeed suggest anything at all.

Mercury began its movement across the sky, long and drawn out, though quite quick and efficient. Purvell was tracking the path to see how it changed. It was a project they had been part of for quite a while and it was in part due to their focus that made them the right person for this particular part of the job. It was a lot of looking and noting and comparing against past paths to see if anything was suggested about the axial tilt of the earth or of Mercury, or of any of the other planets. It could also suggest something about space in general and our perception of it, but that didn’t say much as a lot of research involved that kind of discovering.

The process of looking at Mercury and logging coordinates and data about how the planet appeared begun and it went by as it normally did, and little changed and so on and on it went. There was little to say and little to note, and soon it would enter the path of retrograde. As it did it began to glow a little brighter than usual and sit began to leave a trail, or more accurately, Mercury seemed to grow in length, stretching out from the starting point of the retrograde path.

As the planet did this it went on with its usual appearing to go backward through the sky, but it seemed to also go backward in a forward motion. Understandably this is how it would normally appear, but on this particular path it seemed more so like that description. Purvell kept taking down information about what was happening, about what they were witnessing. They tried to log it as much as possible and they took down most of what was happening.

Eventually Mercury’s path was complete and once it left the retrograde path it cut off from its elongated body, seeming to tear away. As it floated away the body disintegrated and it was as though it was never there. Purvell took note of this and then watched Mercury follow the rest of its path before it was out of the range of view that needed tracking, and so Purvell finished their notes off. It was only when they were switching modes that they realised what they bore witness to and so hurried back to the office and lab space to speak to some of the others.

Purvell saw that Rigby and Clay were still around; most had left for the day and those who worked over the evening were yet to arrive. Purvell explained briefly what they saw and got Rigby and Clay to go to the telescope. Thankfully the event had been recorded, but upon playing it back it seemed as though nothing had happened. There was a brief flash of an outline and the three of them thought it was odd, but it may have just been a slight glitch in the software. It might also have been them imagining the glitch, and it may have been nothing at all and them suspecting something happened when nothing did. Rigby and Clay wrote it off as nothing, and Purvell deigned to follow suit, but kept the data recorded and backed up just in case. It was probably not useful data outside of coordinates and orientation, but just in case.

Clay asked Rigby and Purvell if they wanted to go to the pub. It had been a long few weeks for the three of them, though each had different reasons as to why. Clay accepted; Purvell too, but only after heading home.

Purvell left, hopped on their bike and cycled their way home. They thought about what they had witnessed, but the farther they got from it the more they suspected they didn’t see a thing. They were bored and tired and they needed something more substantive happening at work; they likely imagined what they saw. They figured they should get rid of the data too, then. It probably would serve no purpose other than to muddy the waters. Maybe something did happen, but it probably wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. It probably was just an outlier, albeit an unusual one, and they probably wouldn’t see it happen again.

The ride to and from the observatory was an easy one. Mostly flat, some hills. Uphill and downhill on the way there, downhill and uphill on the way back, but never too challenging, or at least it wasn’t now that they’d been doing the ride for a few years.

They were home in about twenty-five minutes. It was dark and it was quiet. The street light wasn’t switching on, but that was fine and they preferred it that way.

They walked up to their door, fumbled with their keys and pushed firmly against the door. IT had been jamming a little and it was something they’d been meaning to fix, but with all the time they had, they hadn’t gotten around to doing so.

Purvell parked their bike in the entryway space, headed off to shower down and get ready, then headed on back out. It would be nice to take it easy over a few drinks and maybe a quick feed, though they weren’t feeling much in the mood for joyful interaction. Then again, they seldom were. That said, they probably would lighten up a bit. It’d be nice to take a break, even if only for a few hours.

As they walked Purvell whistled out a tune. It was one from their younger days and one that occasionally popped into their head. It was one that meant many things to them, but at the same time nothing at all. It carried its tune nicely on Purvell’s lips and they carried it with them for a few minutes; just long enough to reach the pub.

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One Thousand Word Challenge 264: Pushing Through

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

I exhaled, then had to start again. It was a long exhale and it told me that I’m not doing well, as though I needed to be reminded further of my not doing well. It’s a long day and a quiet day and I’m drowning, so to speak. Just tired and worn out, and I want to go home and cry a lot and all that, but I have to maintain a brave face. I still have a lot of day to get through, and I still have to find a lot of things to fill the day with.

It keeps going, the day. I’m sitting in quiet, but it’s not quiet. I’m among reflective surfaces.

Why am I writing about this?

There was once a time when I believed in writing and the power of it as a form of art. The power of the word, the power of communication. Now I’m not so sure. I’m finding myself just worn out and downbeat, and I’m trying to get through the day in one piece, and there’s just so much more day to go. So much more day to live and all that.

It’s a tough day, mentally, but I still believe in writing. I still believe in having hope, and I still believe in looking toward the future.

That’s all there is to say, really. In a few weeks this will all be done and I’ll be in a different emotional state, I hope. A lot of things compounding at once that are causing me to feel like shit right now. Gonna have to make a tough decision soon, gonna have to work out how I write my essays going forward… gonna have to see what lies beyond tomorrow’s horizon. That’d be nice. That’d be cool. Maybe. I hope.

I had all these grand plans and right now I’m wallowing, but everything seems so out of reach. I’ve waited too long and I’m trying to catch back up, and I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can get to where I was hoping I would be, and that’s okay. I can accept that and I need to accept that. I need to keep on going forward and do my best and all those things that sound good. And I need to believe them.

I’ve been in a state of emotional distress over the past few days and it was brought on by someone else’s emotional distress. I’m just trying to get on with my life right now and I feel like I’m being smothered, but I have to keep going. There’s no other choice. And it’s right around here, where I’d be wrapping this up, but I’ve a little more to say this time. A few more words that will hopefully sound good.

Things are shit. Things are grim. It’s not looking good for us as a species, but we need to start working together and doing what we can, where we can if we’re gonna get to the other side of the mountain. Maybe it is impossible. Maybe we are a lost cause. Maybe the problems in your life are too big. It is still worth trying.

I’m doing my best right now to not give up. To not be defeated. I am chugging along and I’m not gonna stop, because there is so much out there that is beautiful. So much out there that is worth experiencing. Worth the time. Worth everything. What do I get if I give up now? I get to know that I give up now.

Right now I feel lonely. I feel alone. I feel isolated. It’s a horrible feeling. My friends are still out there. My family is still out there. There are people out there that care for you, even if it doesn’t feel that way. There are so many things out there that are worth seeing and worth pushing through all the pain and suffering and hopelessness of everything.

I don’t know what I’m saying here, exactly, but what I hope I am saying is: We have to keep going because nothing changes unless we do. There is no better tomorrow without change, and there is no better tomorrow without everyone included. It takes a lot of work. Sometimes everything is unbearable. Sometimes things just press down and crush, but we are all made of stronger stuff than we allow ourselves to believe.

Sometimes people need help, and so we help them. We help them get to a better position. But we don’t give up. We keep on going and we keep on striving. We do what we can, and we hold others to task. We do not give up on ourselves, either. Our strength lies in our ability to change and see change through. It doesn’t lie in detaching and sinking further and further.

I’m having a rough time, and I’m feeling hopeless, but I can’t give up on myself. I owe it to me to not lie in bed and hide myself from the world. I am feeling the weight today, and it’s just awful. I keep on crawling though, and maybe I’ll walk again tomorrow. If I walk tomorrow, maybe I’ll run the day after. And I’ll do what I can to hold myself and others to task. To be better people. To work toward making sure whomever comes tomorrow has more shade to rest under than I.

I suspect that a lot of the weight and stress we experience is related to the environment in which we live. Too developed, too structured, and it just keeps on going. Trees are removed, things disappear. The form of the world becomes colder and colder. We’re expected to treat this as a good thing, and there are benefits, but it is not a good thing. We have an obligation to look after each other and look after ourselves the best we can. We don’t get anywhere if we keep ignoring those who are suffering.

The time it took to write one thousand words: 14:27:81

I’ve had a very rough few days, and I’m coming through it all now which is great. At least, I feel I’m coming through it all. This bit of writing is heavily influenced by what I’ve been going through. I almost wrote about it yesterday, decided not to, and now have. Could read much better, I think.

Written at work.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1590: Cold Misery

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Cold weather? At this time of year? In this part of the country? It’s actually more likely than it should be, or something. But it is a cold morning and on a cold morning, one must rug up. As such, I am wearing a rug and I am wearing it into the space of wearing, which is the room of office.

Sometimes I wonder as to whether we’ll actually do anything about the current predicament of… well, almost everything. I’m sure some of us will, some of us won’t, and some will claim that they always knew that this was an issue and we should have addressed it sooner, but x reasons, and there will be plenty who will, of course, claim that no one saw all of what is coming, coming.

I wonder if the indifference toward climate change is due to people not seeing how it affects them. Perhaps thinking that it doesn’t affect them. Who knows. Still gotta do our best, however. Get on with the day and try to eat healthier and all of that stuff. Drive less, walk more, cycle more… all of those things. But I don’t want to get too depressing this morning. I don’t want to get too heavy. I just want to complain about the cold and be bitter about it in a format that most pleases me and antagonises you, or bores you. That’s the way I roll and the way I roll is by putting my body horizontal, and then manipulating muscles and all that to start rolling. I keep rolling and I keep getting on with the getting on, and eventually I build traction and get dizzy.

Why did I write all of that?

It’s cold, I’m cold and the day is just starting. No one is around. It is quiet. It is reasonably quite. I like this. I could get used to this. I could find myself dancing through empty halls to a tune only I can hear, and that would be fun. If only I had not injured myself multiple times throughout my life. If only I had treated myself better. Ergo, I’ll still dance, but it’ll hurt a lot until I actually bother to pull my finger out and take better care of myself now… which I’ll do one day, you’ll see. But until that day comes, I’m just a bag of bones walking at fast speeds and trying to overcome my pains by bitterly complaining about them and refusing to accept any responsibility. And I’ll dance through the pain, just you watch.

It’s almost a beautiful day in this cold misery. It’s raining a little and everything feels kind of nice. Kind of slow and relaxed. I need some easy, familiar jazz playing and a book right now. The jazz doesn’t have to be something I recognise; just something that, perhaps, I could recognise as hearing before, but in a different form. A different shape, and it needs to be background enough for reading.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:07:27

Decent speed, fun bit of writing. Silly in parts, serious in others.

Written at work.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1589: Fatigued Morning

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

Fatigue and all that, carrying on, carrying me forward, carrying me home. Gonna aim for a lot of posts today, and the last thing I need is fatigue dragging me down. It’s holding onto me like a thick and drenched blanket, anchoring me down, preventing my from shining at my worst. Can’t write crap if feeling this tired. Can only write crap, and that’s crap.

There’s this industrial hum in this building, and I suspect it’s the sound of air being conditioned. That’s what I suspect it is. It stretches through a space with a lot of hardened surfaces, and it just keeps going. I listen to music, but I hear the drone.

I’m feeling tired and emotionally drained and all of those things that someone who was a bit mean would classify as fun. It’s not fun for me. Not fun right now,. not fun ever. I need sleep I need rest. Not getting enough, need more, and so on and so forth. And so, instead of writing something that captures something poignant about the smallness of life, I’m complaining about being tired. Again.

Perhaps there are limits to mediocrity when it comes to writing. Perhaps I am not as powerful as I hoped to be. Powerful in my crap. Ha.

This building is a space seen by many and understood by some, and I’m just a participant here. Just a participant, writing away, trying to make sense of things that don’t need to be made sense of. This place almost feels eternal. It’s not. It most definitely has limits, but sometimes it feels like it stretches on forever and ever, and there’s little getting away from its shape and halls and everything.

One tends to spend a lot of their life in buildings, or at work. A lot of life lived in a place we don’t live. How profound, or something. But a god chunk of people do spend their lives away from home, even if locally away. It makes me wonder as to how we got this way. Should we treat home as home? Should we just treat it as shelter and little else? Of course, there is need to maintain things. Need to make sure everything works and functions as intended. And maybe there is need for comfort, to help reduce stress. But at what point is a home where we live? We do part of our living there, sure, but can not a building in which we work also be home?

Different kind of home, I guess.

These are thoughts that I think are worth thinking, but perhaps not right now. There are a lot of things to do and little time in which I can do them. Need to get through the day, to the end of it. Need to do a lot of writing. Need to get a good deal of rest later, too. And need to push through the being as tired as I am so I can get my writing done.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:55:74

It was a heavy day today. Still is. Still tired. Wrote something I’m not exactly happy with, but at least captured the moment well.

Written at work.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1588: Faster than the Last

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

I want to try and get something written at a faster speed than the last one. I don’t want to go into talking about racing the clock as that’s not what I’m doing, even though that’s exactly what I’m doing. What I want to do is write something that makes sense that is done faster than the previous thing I wrote.

Asking for a lot, I know.

I’m feeling tired and I’m feeling over it, and soon I will go onto the balcony and fly away. I will reach for a more natural world and I will float along as I fly. I will fly as I float along. I will look at the world underneath me and marvel at it all. Marvel at how small I am and how little anything matters. Or rather, marvel at how little anything that I have done matters.

I am merely a spectator of the earth, and in flying away from work and drifting over the natural, organic environment, I will be able to reinforce that, or something.

There’s a game that ends with the main character falling into a deep sleep and dreaming of having become a bird, and flying through the sky and across the planet, seeing how things have changed. It’s a bit of an emotional ending. I don’t want to mention the game as it’s a bit of a spoiler, but if you know, you know. Anyway, the character crosses across the planet and sees how the world has changed, and then it ends up heading somewhere familiar. If I were to choose my fate, then I would probably go for this.

I haven’t had a significant impact on society, as far as I am aware. Maybe I have, but I don’t think that’s the case. But I’d like to become a bird and fly across, take stock of the state of things. See the world from a different perspective and experience things in a different way. There are downsides, of course, but that is what I would like. I think it would be a great way to be part of the world. Probably a tragic way in ways I cannot perceive. But anyway.

I’d fly and eat and fly and eat, and I’d see what is out there. And that sums it up quite nicely, actually. Because what else can I say? I mean, sure, I could get into details, but I’m still racing the clock even though I’m claiming that I’m not racing the clock. I’m still trying to get a bunch of things written in a way that makes sense to me and within a frame of time that I hope to meet, so I don’t have the time to get into it all. I don’t have the time to get into depth about riding air currents and gliding long distances, but let me tell you, I would do all of those things and I’d do much more. Or less. It is yet to be determined.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:07:83

Decent speed whilst also touching on some things that are important to me. Could read better, but it still turned out okay.

Written at work.

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Five-Hundred Word Challenge 1587: Third Attempt

Posted on March 27, 2026 by Stupidity Hole

This is my third attempt at writing something, and I don’t know what I’m going to write, but I’m going to make an attempt. I owe myself at least that much, and I owe you all that, too. So uhhh…. here goes.

It’s a warm day and I sit here by the day that is warm. I’m not in the day; I’m in a cool space, but soon I will be out of that space. I will be outside and I will need to handle and deal with the situation of the day being warm.

It’s times like these that I wish there was some sort of suit I could fill with water and wear. I’d fill it with ice and a bit of cold water, and then I’d walk around all impervious to the warmth. I’d appreciate this and there would be no downsides whatsoever. This is a genius way to go about doing things and I don’t know why it has taken so much of my life to think about doing this. Strange how life progresses through life.

So I’d be in the warm day and people would marvel at my sheer genius. They’d marvel about how brilliant I am and wonder why they didn’t think of such a thing before me. You see, all them people are fools, but not I. I only operate in ways that are so far advanced and beyond anyone else’s understanding that, one day, when people finally catch up, I’ll be so far ahead and beyond everything that I’ll appear to be some sort of divine channeller from the future. What do I do then?

Well, not much.

But the heat is what I’m currently concerned about. That and working out how to deal with it, and all I have is “walk through it and do little in the way of complaining”. It’s a good way to be about things sometimes, but I do wish I had my water suit. Sure, there would be downsides, but water. In a suit. That’d be awesome. That’d be amazing. That’d be the knees of the bees, and who can deny the bees their knees? Who could do that? Be a horrible thing to do, really.

But I am denied the suit and so my only option is to be an adult and get through it all. Get to the end of the day, go home but not without buying batteries on the way, and hope where I live isn’t too hot. If it is, deal with it, get through it, get on with the rest of things.

Soon I will be out there, dealing with the warmth. Dealing with the tyranny of discomfort. Getting through it and hoping for the best, and hoping that I get to home and rest easily. Maybe I can tunnel my way into a block of ice or something, keep cool that way. Sleep in the block of ice and then wake up in the morning, all nice and chilled.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:55:56

This was from yesterday, and I think it turned out okay. Not good, not bad. Just okay.

Written at work.

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