matthewericcohn
I am a part of a Western system, Western democracy, Western victim, part of the hipocrisy. I profess to contest global warming but I drive an SUV and leave the lights on in the morning. I'm the worst. I feel good when I recycle but I'm buying up these plastics 'cause I'm caught up in this cycle, --immersed-- in a culture that I feel is run by psychos, coerced into a system that I find I kind of like and I --burst-- into tears when I see a turtle --choking-- on a bag that I tossed in the trash, in a pile of rubble --smoking-- like the cinders of this earth, like my heart, it burns for my sins against this planet I love and that I'm ripping apart, for what I'm doing to it while I sit comfortably in my hearth. It's time for a change, and for what it's worth, this is a start. I'm Western, and this is my heart.
The lights dimmed, and the crowd silenced. Even the obnoxious arena announcer closed his mouth for a few precious seconds. The arena was buzzing with anticipation A sound like two cars of a freight train slamming together crashed through the stadium, met with cheers from the crowd. Spotlights hit the floor, and we traced them with our eyes across the court to the home entryway. A voice rang over the din, not so obnoxious now.
"WELCOME. YOUR 2015 NBA CHAMPION, GOLDEN... STATE... WARRIORS!" The crowd erupted in cheers. We had waited so long.
The scientists gathered around to look upon their discovery.
"It appears to be moving."
one scientist prods the object with a stick.
"feces doesn't move."
one scientist scribbles in his notebook
"perhaps it is sentient feces"
he quizzes the feces. No response.
one scientist scribbles in his notebook
"perhaps it isn't feces"
"... we're going to have to test that."
Black fluid crept up his hand, writhing like slimy creature up his arms, reaching long slimy tendrils, crawling toward his shoulder as if it were alive. The world spun, an eerie incandescent glow the same shade and texture of the journal pages. The ink was to his neck now, and his hand went fluid, dissolving into ink itself. He stared for a long moment into his own reflection, distorted by that pool of black of such a perfect shade that it almost sucked him in. And then it did. And suddenly he was thrown into a world quite unlike his own. He recognized it. Mesorath, the world he had created.
The long table of the dining hall was set for a feast, a decadence which the impoverished city could hardly afford, but which had become a routine lately in the halls of Palace of King Brand.
It was an historic day for the new orleans saints. A rookie quarterback by the name of McDaniel has taken them all the way. Where did he come from, this superstar-in-the-making? A relative nobody, he was drafted in the 7th round by a team that was struggling to make the playoffs. Fast-forward 6 months, 16 regular season games and 4 post-season games, and he's the starting quarterback in the most dynamic New Orleans saints team perhaps to have ever graced the Mercedes-Benz Super Dome.
Now, facing the the greatest challenge of his still-young career, will he succumb to the pressure, or will he triumph and upset the incumbent Miami Dolphins? Stay tuned, and don't miss the exciting conclusion of this already tumultuous, injury riddled 2035 football season. Superbowl XXXIIIVVIV kicks off, after this commercial break, because fuckit, who can read Roman numerals anyway?
If you ever find yourself lost in the mores of your society
allowed your cultural decorum to dictate your sense of propriety
relied on your parents or your guardian or church
to provide you with your goals or your desires or your piety
then you're allowing society to change your mind
not using your mind to change society
Where flesh meets flesh, we embraced. The two of us, on the doorstep of your parents home. Where soul meets soul, we spoke. The two of us, in a world of our own. We shared the same desires - to live, to see more of this world, to go where we weren't; to love one another. In the world of souls our moment's embrace was eternity, and we lived our dreams. In the world where flesh met flesh, we parted - and we're strangers once more.
"It seems to be a ferrous alloy of some sort..."
"What?"
"It has Iron in it"
"Then why didn't you just say that, why did you say 'hmmm... myes Watson, it seems to be some sort of fairess alloy, mhm."
"Because then I wouldn't have been able to impress you with my knowledge of basic high school chemistry..."
"Yeah, I'm really impressed."
Somewhere, a twig snapped.
Ellen stopped. Her heart skipped a beat. These forests were dangerous at night, and the dark was quickly falling. The shadows made perfect cover for predators and bandits. Still holding her breath, Ellen tip-toed behind a tree in a low crouch, and pursed her lips as the stubbed her toe on a tree root. Did she make a sound? She thought not. She hoped not...
There! She could hear it clearly, a rustling sound in the brush just on the other side of the tree. Heavy grunting and snorting noises made her realize that she was still holding her breath. Were they coming closer?
Suddenly the creature let out a loud, hideous squeal and the bushes exploded in a rush as an enormous boar came hurtling into the clearing, gushing blood across the forest floor from where a huge, black spear protruded from its leg. Ellen was captivated by the sight, and held herself utterly still, unwilling to breath, until the breath she was holding finally released itself in a scream as she was startled by the appearance of a large, foreign boot beside her.
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