| [Back] [Bottom] [Index] [List] [Calendar] [Friends] | [Bio] |
| Date: | 2003-05-16 18:02:17 | |||
| Subject: | something i said to myself while in the shower: | |||
| Entry: |
hey, fidget? you're considering dating again? are you sure it won't land you in the hague, on trial for "crimes against humanity"? well, self. i think we both know the answer to that. |
|||
|
|
||||
| Date: | 2003-05-17 01:34:29 | |||
| Subject: | means of escape will probably happen like this: | |||
| Entry: | i'll awake in darkness, gasping but aspirating nothing. my senses blearily become aware of themselves, and in the process, let me know that i'm covered in sweat and stickiness. a new kind of pain tears through my nerves, but with every throb and sting comes a renewed sense of unexplained elation. somehow, i stumble from bed and give the lightbulb life. the mirror reflects that my naked, pale form has acquired a set of massive black wings. i am also covered in blood, mostly likely from when they ejected themselves from my back. an unnamable instinct takes over, and i move my wings repeatedly, increasing their blood flow and eradicating the pain. finally, when i'm ready, i pack a few books, a picture of jay, and the clash's london calling album. as i jump out the window, the night engulfs me, and i rise on the air, held my her exhalation. | |||
|
||||
| Date: | 2003-05-23 13:05:00 | |||
| Subject: | boredom abounds, and the birds still chortle. | |||
| Entry: |
yeah. so. this past sunday, while i was tossing a pile of reddish clothing into the maytag®, i noticed my terrier, dixie, had somehow wedged herself behind the washer. this didn't surprise me one bit; dixie is rather portly. she was probilie going after a mouse or some other small woodland creature — i live in a rual setting, and despite all precautions taken, one always seems to find its way into the basement every so often. i bent down to unlodge my furry charge, and to my surprise, i noticed a hole in the wall behind the appliance with light eminating from it. after much squeezing and swearing, i fit myself through, and found myself in a secret little room. tiny lab coats were neatly hung with hangers along the pea-soup-green wall, and i smirked at my dog's inginuety. my amusement quickly turned to awe when i noted the cloning machine that inhabited the room. i stepped over to it and pushed some buttons. a soothing, secretary-esque voice asked for some dna, and i happily obliged my hand to the extended syringe-type apparatus. th machine began to beep and whirr, and after three minutes, it emitted a joyous "ting!" sound. a door opened, and out stepped an exact replica of myself. she blinked, startled by the sudden light. i clapped my hands excitedly. i could finally put that bjork song to good use and create my very own "army of me". so that's what i spent the rest of sunday afternoon doing. my army of me grew, and has been all week. i've tried to paint the toenails of each clone in order to tell them apart. as i have only named a few, i must procure a list of names and interesting inadimate objects. so far, they've been taught basic crocheting skills, the wonders of tim burton films, how to dance to bad '80s music, and what to do in case of fire. soon, though, they will learn how to take over the world. i suppose some people may find this disturbing. to tell the truth, i would, too, if they weren't my own clones. |
|||
|
||||
| [Back] [Top] [Index] [List] [Calendar] [Friends] | [Bio] |