I am going to die at the young age of 27 years old.
That means I have about 3 years to live, probably closer to 2.
Unless of course, the eternality of the universe is revealed for a split-second-forever in December 2012, which cures my lifedeath disease and I can get beyond the "miracle" of the jizzing copies of myself, loving, hating, eating and shitting cycle[s].
State my assumptions:
1. The universe as I per sieve it behaves in totality hydromechanically -- of course this is a metaphor, which is the universe of itself.
2. I am going to die at age 27..
3. There is no assumption 3...
False Apophenic Connections:
1. 3 to the 3rd is 27 (The Holy Trinity contained within itself)
2. Letters in the Illuminated English Alphabet == 27
3. Everything comes in threes (unless it's fives of course)
4. 2+7 = 9, Yesod, the base, flow of eternal cosmic energy
5. 2 in binary is 010, 7 in binary is 111 -- the outer digits change, the inner "oneness" remains. "The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated"
That Being said!
Everything is True, and YOU NEED TO GET A JOB. Make it snappy barista, I've got things to do, I only have 2 years left to live anyway.
You ask me what my five year plan is as some sort of sick joke? Ha. I'll burn in hell for that one, good job. Where can you get real cigarettes made from real screaming, pleading, begging people anyway? Ah, it's all just a delusion anyway.
And you ask me why I focus on the darkness? With my previous lives emancipated from their hiding places in the folds of my brain meat... I see... THE BLACK MEAT AT THE END OF YOUR HOOK DRAGGING THE BLEEDING WORDS FROM MY TONGUE. I mean, you know, rainbows are cool, its all colors. It's not your fault at all, you're nothing but an innocent guilty pleasure.
I drink the Pepsi(R) and cum inside the empty can.
The Coca-Cola faction is not going to be happy about that. Mac versus PC, Red versus Blue! I'm cumming inside, and sending it off the the recycling plant to make more illusions. That's how it's always been, that's how we conservatives like it.
An unsatisfactory kiss. You finding nothing more to drink from this hell bound face and leave me. I kiss Maya in form of sheet and pillow, still nothing but going through the motions.
The flames below me are dying out, the eternal keepers distracted by their chasing of abstractions carved with metaphors out of boundries between one another.
I see. I judge. Humanity.
They speak of their "faith being restored in humanity" -- smells like ouroborus shit if you ask me. Sort of like the Sesame Street "Believe in yourself" message.
But the message isn't important, what's important is that while I was growing up they had a screen playing sounds and images.
What's important is you're reading this on a screen, programmed, controlled both by flaw and divine guidance.
Flaw is just a concatenation and abbreviation of Fundemental and Law.
"One owes discretion to oneself at some point" -- someone I read recently thought Freud said that at some point, but I also found it here in this GREAT LIVEJOURNAL POST.
Keep it foolish