Alright, so I’m here in my living room with my housemates and they’re probably wondering as to why I’m typing so fast. I don’t know as to why I’m typing so fast.
One of them (Fe) is talking about his shallot pancakes. The other one is asking about the pancakes. My partner is on her phone. I am cutting through the sound by typing rather loudly and trying to be speedy at the same time. It’s a tough job, let me tell you, but someone has to get it done some how. There is no other option.
Well, there are other options but unfortunately I am far too lazy to explore them at this current juncture in time. Right now I just want to relax. Still, if I went to the bedroom and wrote at my desk, then my writing would be much faster. Doing the typing whilst resting the laptop on my legs does not make for a comfortable position to be in. It also does not allow for the kind of arm room that I normally require, but that isn’t important right now.
Right now it’s all about the relaxing and taking it easy whilst hanging out with the housemates in the living room. The light is warm and low and there is the sound of eating and the sound of food. That is the way that the thing is going right now. This isn’t much of an event, however, but there are other things to worry about, or something to similar effect. I’m getting off topic, even though there was no topic. I think that I’m loosening up a little which is a good thing and a bad thing at the moment. Right now I’d rather remain a little rigid, but the laziness is taking over and I’m relaxing and loosening and that is finding its way into my writing, which I can’t do much about at the current moment. Oh well. I’ll keep on getting loose and finding out how to listen to the words without listening to the words. If that does not make sense, then I don’t really care right now. I’m on another plane of a plane that is not a thing, so long as it does not flip itself on the way toward the super tube.
If that does indeed happen, then how many fish will entangle themselves upon a rising moor beyond the reproach of every nodding man riding the horse toward the destiny of yesterday? How will the children find the event horizon and thus allow themselves to transform into fleshy beings of the ascended church when the hole holds the hoop in a toroidal shape meeting in the centre of it all without the information leaking out on the other side, wherever that side may or may not be?
There is no telling, really, but if the end is dead the perhaps there is a way to return from it all so long as the frogs do their homework.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:33:34
So this was rather flat up until a certain point where the conversation happening around me started seeping in. Then it was just silly.
Written at home.