westid

another spin of the wheel coming my way. unfortunate though it is, i don’t have the opportunity to place any bets. anything i would throw down a wager on however, would only come back with even money

speaking of even money; i sadly didn’t get pharmacologically adjacent during this otherwise splendid bank holiday weekend as i’m certain most of you probably did. the problem with me is that i see quite far into the future. don’t have them all important lottery numbers just yet, but getting wankered can join the fuckin queue; behind all these things more important that i’ve got to do, nevermind every other inevitable detail this forlorn submariner has yet to fathom on through

lately i’ve been having an experiment. the other week i went on a mini stationery binge ten minutes before tesco shut for the night in an attempt to find some way i can represent all this activity that goes on in my head so that they might – through such a medium – find some way to understand how i think. i do a lot of writing, for myself and also other people… but that doesn’t stop them from being silly twats and going overboard with the daft ideas like i am at all a risk to anyone, although

in an earlier version of the internet which didn’t consist of your endlessly scrolling self aggrandisement or location based fuck finding applications, people wrote stories – found together, mostly with a common theme or flavour of sexual deviance – and from that they would roleplay and such. it weren’t a simple up and down locomotive mechanic, clillitorate. people put their mind in what they were coming out with, and it was no longer a simple spectator sport

the only real development that the internet has come out with since those wonderful days … is the availability of high quality music. everything else is pretty much shit… contributing only to the lack of general sentience found wanting in any kind of creative endeavour

here is something deep for the ones who have really tried to reach me this last week. enjoy

before there were perverse, sinister, sexually charged cyber soliloquies. before there was gambling. even before there was drugs – we had music. and the more fucked and deep it gets the closer to the true surface it goes; the one that’s on the bottom of the ocean, slaughtering shipwreck spotters by imploding their underwater vessel with the collective weight of five queen elizabeth class aircraft carriers’ worth of all that depth weighing down on top of us all which is the closest a bunch of now dead people would ever get to reaching it with their own eyes.