and was there a thud and the thud said, it is good... the carnal pron shall wait for another body, entry shall by put off for another entry, and the continuous continuum of the context du z0tl shall continue like it was written as a M*A*S*H episode by Radar himself, no matter what the meek shall inherit... and so it was writ, and so it will be... make it so...

and z0tl said (to no one in particular):

ransom money

i was sitting in the corner, sulking, having a self-pity party, fully catered. i had 4 ice cube trays filled with bud light piss in the fridge. this wasn't piss beer, it was piss as a result of too much beer drinking & a survival training class i took that taught me all i need to know about piss drinking and freezing. i am a visionary and have always been able to combine skills in unexpected ways when under pressure. scientific facts: bud light piss freezes at -5 celsius, labatt blue piss at -8.

canucks have always been better at making beer and music, for that matter.

i have drinks. my fridge is full of drinks, just like don mckellar's friend in last night. & piss ice cubes for those who ask for it. you should watch more canadian movies, she said. i listened and liked her enough to offer her a hot chocolate instead of the martini on the rocks she wanted.

i told her she'd feel better drinking something hot in this sweltering heat, i learned that from beduins while trekking through gobi on the back of a crazed dromedary or bactrian camel, i can't recall now, but it's another fact. i am full of facts, just like snapple caps.

i am a docile listener, a watcher. in certain parts they call my kind observers. i have observed for a very long time now and all i can tell you is that there's not much out there worth observing. not much at all. we watched last night - that is the movie screening i always use whenever new blood drops in on me - and sipped casually from our hot chocolates. i had no whipped cream. bummer!

i am cold blooded or so my host has become once i settled in, but she agreed the hot chocolate cooled her off a bit, paradoxically. the button on my dvd/tv remote control that switches on my climate control and drops the temperature a good 1o degrees is worn off from creating so many hot chocolate in the desert will cool you down paradoxes.

i argued about the final movie scene. mckellar and his girl were holding guns to their heads, swearing to leave the dying earth together, a suicide pact sealed with eternal love. i argued he was pointing his gun behind her ear, insuring brain stem obliteration, sure death for her, while she was pointing her gun at his temple, aiming for a frontal lobotomy, a teri schiavo scenario at best for him.

women do not know the first thing about guns or using them, i said. i have a 3:30 appointment and you're not going anywhere! i won't be long.

the appointment went well. i didn't go, he did. it would only become my appointment as well, once he returned. i stayed with her, hugging a fury pillow, watching her thoughts about me for a bit. i thought he was a bit weird & always desperate, but maybe good enough for pity sex. whoever he was meeting probably had to hear the conversation about guns, only this time it would expand to include facts on the type of ammo used.

he'd say, jacketed hollow point, to spread at the impact for optimal damage, but it would still have to be at least a 45 caliber to guarantee results. why do i always go for these morbid types? oh, i remembered, i can't give up my young days of gothic lore.

i got up (or rather she did), i can't always tell anymore and hardly care to notice anyway. i went to the kitchen counter & gazed inside the fish bowl & made eye contact with the cobra guppy. you'll get used to the peculiar i pronoun usage soon enough, i promise.

i couldn't stand her boredom anymore & always found the 3 seconds of memory perception the fish afforded me rather refreshing. so i switched. 3 seconds is not enough to worry about fish bowl captivity and loneliness, plus you need to be pretty persistent to renew your worrying every 3 seconds. when i am fish, i do not worry much. period.

forgetting is not dying, forgetting is salvation. i waited patiently until he returned from his appointment. many 3-second life spans came and went, but feeding time would always come eventually & i was back to my comfortable self. the self who'd never know i'm there, still i am a bit worried as of late i could be slipping in codependent territory, not just with him, but the species in general.

there was a time when i used to panic in that fish bowl. what if he'll never come back? what if a truck runs him over and some random stranger would come by to dispose of me and i'd have to spend time hopping around incessantly until i could find another quirky enough brain pattern that would at least make my life interesting, rather than mindnumbingly boring?

another eye glance, i switched and put the fish food away. i like my fish bowl and somehow i know it isn't cruel to keep innocent fish in a fish bowl. my date looked very happy to see me but couldn't refrain from nagging: "it's been an hour, i thought you'd never come back!"

it's been 20 x 60 independent memory stretches of guppy mindlessness and it all bothered me way less than the incredible boredom endorphins you were unleashing on me an hour ago, i thought, then he put a grin on his face that made it all fit perfectly. he thought about sex and i thought about sleeping, i have to knock myself out anytime he's doing his sex thing, it's that bad! i'd rather take 2 consecutive days in the fish bowl, but usually by the time i realize sex'll happen i have to settle for him or her and it's way overrated when viewed from either angle.

a kneading tomcat with no balls has way more fun than the stuff people do, i've experienced the dolphin thing, that was quite pleasant, once i even let myself being eaten by my black widow mate. however i have to stick with people for now. i am my host and that's all i am plus an instinct to switch. my memories remain with the host.

i am him and don't know what she's thinking, i am her and then remember everything she thought about me before. sometimes i end up switching 10 times an hour to try and understand how can so much miscommunication occur between two people in such a short interval of time. i say the memories stay with the host and they do, but if i spend enough time with one host, the memories linger. they dissipate soon enough, however spending most of my time with one host is advantageous if i want to remember who the hell i am or try to figure out the purpose of my existence. i know of no one else like me, so the search must go on.

enough thinking for one day, a thought popped into my head out of the blue, i got up to feed my guppy for the 2nd time within the span of an hour. by the time he goes back to have his way with the woman, i'm finished gobbling down the food, make my fish mind blank and go to rest.

and I said (for no particular reason):

I miss Velveeta, but that's beside the point... our work here is done for the moment as the babble files are being depleted of their valuable cargo of what you've seen here in this and the previous eighteen entries (has it been that long?... do you think any will actually ever be read?... is anybody reading even this one?... is anybody out there?... does anybody care?... something's burning somewhere...

in any case, studiously done...

living in rewind all coiled up awaiting a spring without caring if it pops in or out... just something change all can't be the same if the world isn't cruel and creation evolves... reason and rhyme doesn't come all the time and it may not matter if all ends in doubt... obscurity seems to stimulate me and keeps me from feeling the world as it revolves...

g'nite world, wherever you are.

. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
(just let me know you were here)