08 April 2015

1 thought + 14 tweets

Today I was thinking about careers. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a mad scientist – like the kind that appears in old movies or in cartoons: one who’s so obsessed with his inventions that he never leaves his secret makeshift underground laboratory, which is filled with beakers of multicolored liquids that continuously billow smoke even when lukewarm. This morning I awoke with the realization that I’ve achieved that goal. For I wear safety goggles on the regular and never comb my hair.

What to expect from the rest of this blog entry:

The first thing that you will see below is a drawing that I drew specifically to inaugurate this midsection of my blog. I knew that I would be archiving the output of my Twittering Machine, so I thought that a nice big dead bird would be apt.

After the bulleted roundup of chirpy statements, I have enclosed one blurry and poorly lit self-shot, so that, when you meet me in person, you can exclaim with sincerity: You’re the only soul I know whose online images look WORSE than your actual appearance.

Finally, after the wretched self-shot, I will share the paper scrap on which I originally composed the update that concludes the present assortment. (Before posting them, I always hand-write my thoughts on scraps of paper, so as to maximize my online instantaneity.) I beg you to imagine discovering that last message in a fortune cookie.

Tweets unheard

  • Fear not, dear sinners – I will never damn you . . . I’ll only darn you; or at the very worst I might dang you.
  • From this day forward, there are no jobs available in the medical field because every living creature is in perfect health.
  • Let it pass.
  • I apologize for the fact that my wireless gadget’s charging cord just altered the location of your pewter earrings.
  • These days, they place the mixture in clay figurines.
  • If one were to digest a bite of one’s own flesh, I wonder if one’s body would enjoy a net gain or loss . . . or if it would simply break even.
  • Neutrons may believe that spacetime cares.
  • “Did I drip over there when I gripped the wine to cut it?” —verbatim quote from a fat-free household goose
  • I think that roofers fall to their death less often than writers ascend into obscurity.
  • Those who feel good will feel bad; and those who feel bad will either get well or expire—that is, feel nothing: and nothing is better than good.
  • I am inside my apartment. I hear the noise of a bird. I run to the window.
  • It might not yet be illegal to dream of a place where lonely people can meet and gently caress one another.
  • When you jump, try to land on something soft.
  • My time is not in time with time’s time.

4 comments:

kinky won said...

Your handwriting is worse than mine and I have a disease! The again I take drugs for it. My neurologists makes my draw spirals she has draw and we tough fingers et. It is almost as loving as this post. Keep it in print i can't read your handwriting;

Bryan Ray said...

I am happy to hear that you touch fingers with your neurologist. My own neurologist is not yet ready to take our relationship to that level. But I will practice drawing some spirals and see if that helps.

kinky won said...

I can't even say my neurologist name. I only see her annually sine Parkinson's was ruled out. I miss touching fingers. Maybe I will do it tomorrow at work. They already think I am crazy. I still am amazed they call it essential tremors? WTF am I some kind of Continental plate? Plate Teutonic? Geologist should study me for their pphd thesis

Bryan Ray said...

One of William Blake's 'Proverbs of Hell' says "Listen to the fool's reproach: it is a kingly title!" - so if someone calls you 'crazy,' just take a look at who is considered 'sane'... And, yes, I think that we are all tectonic plates.

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