HMm
Last night
Thought about going to bed
Tired I was an all.
So I just sat at the computer and typed
(no thinking involved)
I find it amusing, you may to:


Its like it was never there. Just a phone away, a few footsteps along the white-flecked sidewalk as the snow really started to sheet down. Then it finally hits. What was isn’t anymore. But it’s to late for goodbye’s now. We have fallen upon deaf ears. The eyes of the world are upon us and Im afraid I might flicker out. The calidescope visions that used to guide my way, with promises and hints of a luxurious nature, with their self-preserving mottos and charismatic ways, I feel they did us proud. Sitting all alone. The last kid in school, with the tatterdamelion lunch-box and the eyes of burnished bronze. Waiting, just waiting for that car to pull up that was never going to come, so that for just one day, they would not have to trudge the eight miles home with holed shoes to a house where love has never been found. You talk to me about growing up and staying alive. Well I try, when the doors close in and the snow mobiles get stuck halfway down the mountain. I’m already late for work. When they show you the newest product, you have to be there, or you just get caught in the queue like everyone else. Im not a bad person, just the result of a missfunctional brain coupled with the abberant self-loathing policies endorsed by the lower-middleclass income earners. Slaving away all day to provide ends meat and a house where the mistletoe doesn’t have to be reused every year. And the laughs don’t come forced from a soul crying out from the cloying barrages of mesmerizing media perpetually flinging at them the luxury items they can never afford, giving them the false hope that maybe one day dreams do come true. The frog will turn out to be the handsome prince, and that the vicious cycle of poverty imposed upon them by the self-same monetary monoliths will somehow be broken. There is no magic spell, no fancy cure. Now is the time of the day that I like. Atleast I would if the endless groaning of the suppressed neighbours encompassing me about would quit for just one hour, just one minute. Where silence could permeate the air like a renewing balm, and the clothe-factory clearance sales would quit the clamoring for attention. We could all see that money isn’t anything more than a rusty old iron bucket, holed through and through, and thoroughly useless. Maybe then we could all see the beauty right in front of our noses. The way the birds sing, the bees hum, and the trees whisper their rapturous music when the lull of humanity has passed them by. Assuming, that is, that the greedy and exploitive companies have not already ground them into obeisance, bruising and ultimately losing the sweet, sweet sound. I long for the country, an armchair that creaks soothingly every time I rock back to catch up my glass of iced freshly-sqeezed lemonade, and a pure and undefiled sunny afternoon in which to enjoy my hard-won pleasures. There will be no hooting of horns, no blaring of ridiculous signs, imposing the will of a plethora of ignorant despisers of the true depths of humanity upon my already careworn soul. Every time the ad comes on, and the lights grown dim, I can feel myself being sucked just a little further into their lies and deceit. I mean it’s just so easy to believe that all we have made, all we have become, all that was sacrificed to pave the way to the sprawling monstrosity of a society we have erected about us was not for naught. I know I lie awake dreaming of the possibility that some starving African child somewhere benefits because we know how to treat her malnutrition caused diseases. But then why are they starving, why do they duck for cover every time something louder than a gentle rustle is heard? Why are they scared of everyone and everything? Was it not our wonderful society that funded the terrorizing bands of militia scouring the countryside leaving it devoid of wealth and food? A little too late for sorries and bandages I think. I know that if the world revolved around us, we would all have frozen to our lazyboys, reclined in front of a television screen teeming with images of the ugliness we have created, so far from any light, that all we have to see is what was, and what could have been. I could be lying sprawled on the nutrient starved earth, calling out for help till I died, but would anybody hear? Would anybody listen? I really wish I could stay and chat, endorse your label and purchase some new running shoes and run the hell out of this place. Maybe dreams do come true….




Hmm.
A few more points:
Used superacids today.
Fun.
A superacid is defined as any acid strong enough to protonate sulphuric acid. We are talking strong here. The one we used was about 1000 times stronger than sulphuric acid. It reacts with almost anything.
Its fun, but kapuut for the unfortunate eye.

Also.
A breath-ful of gasseous HCl is very difficult to hold.
My record is 7 seconds.
My lungs still feel iritated, generally a bad idea.


One more thing.
I like spring-time cherry-blossom goodness
All around campus the now.
I sat on a small hillock in the windiest part of uni, anchoring my beloved university-based items (eg- bag, books, etc) with my own self. I had hair blown everywhere, but, joy of joys, i had a front row seat to a lovely operatic performance by the blossoms of the nearby trees, with which to entertain myself while I ate.

Blossoms remind me of happier carefree times, under the expert tutelage of a Teacher Hamilton, back when the boys were men, and the girls weren't ladies, so they needed lessons, and 1000 line punishments were not uncommon, but the work was non-existant.
'Sa-pu-ra' everyone.
And feast your metaphysical eyes on the blossomy goodness next time you are out and about. You will be a better person for it.


As for me
It is time to bow out with dignity.

Tomorow, i promise myself to up the 3 page story i schave created,
till then TATA.