All And Nothing

Broken drifting times and memories.
Disjointed events and unknown horizons.
You can never return to what you left.
Neither is the same.
Sometimes you can’t even get to where you left to see.
Sometimes all you have is the journey.
Big skies.

Cartilage and Teeth.

Special moments are only so to those who feel involved.
Want to know something?
Great White Sharks are carried as eggs inside the mother, fertilized by the father using special flippers and then hatch inside the mother. There is no placenta or umbilical cord in there, so the newly hatched little sharks eat each other and any unfertilized eggs. Then the few survivors are born into the sea, ready to kill. This would explain why they are so mean! Hahah! Sharks are a very interesting creature. I could go on and on with cool shark stuff, but this main idea is that sometimes what we are is not only misunderstood, but the reasons for the properly understood traits might be deeper than we thought.
Heck.
I love sharks. They are cool. I am also sort of afraid of sharks. I had this sort of premonition that a shark would eat me. That was the way I would die. But then I joined the army and I remember thinking as we were training in a pool that, well, I might get shot but at least I will not be eaten by a shark. I felt like I had changes my destiny.
Then I switched over to the navy. And bingo. Now I spend a lot of time on the sea, and I know there are sharks around. I see the water, dark and powerful at night, and I can imagine what it would be like to be bobbing out there, in the cool embrace. And just waiting for that first nudge. Shivers. That sand paper skin sliding by you, so sleek and slinky. Unchanged for a hundred million years. Super killer. All speed and teeth. I wonder if I would have time to feel fear through the amazement and the excitement. Then the first bite. Maybe the only one, as the shark tried to decide if I tasted good enough. Just the get the blood flowing. To bleed me out. What a way to go.
In other news, all is chaotic. The worse feeling in my sheltered, safe, easy, nearly empty life is when I know I am not in the equation. When I am not in the main thoughts of those I think about. So evil. It is like some weird vampiric quality. To live off of the emotions of others. Love. Hate. Hell, it almost doesn’t matter. Just the attention. How pathetic is that?
So I wonder. And I think. And I know, as much as I know anything else, that the world has many a strange turn left to show. That is comforting. Either another brush with closeness and a few smiles which matter, or a quiet swim with some old buddies, hee hee. Whatever. I Just Want More Still.

Strange Rack Fuel

So I was sitting down to a fairly tasteless meal in the mess after watch when the big Sasquatch motherfucker next to me starts to let it out.
He says, “Rex, I had the weirdest dream. I don’t know if it is because of you and Gary [Gary and I play D&D and we talk about the games to the rest sometimes], but last night I had this horror dream. It was at this haunted house, and I was coming out of a crawl space and this thing was coming after me. It was a chick, with no legs, and a Medusa’s head, spitting at me. But she was like a doll. And she was chasing me. I stopped, turned around and told her that I knew what she wanted, that she wanted to Get Fucked! So I whip out my dick and the thing is, like, shying away, and I start to give it to this legless doll thing…”
.
.
Well.
I tell ya.
I didn’t know how to respond to that one right away!

Can't Understand

Nothing.
There is nothing except the dark needs tied up in lies.
To oneself.
To the world.
To the future.
Try to escape and see the bright hope,
But smashed back in so fast that
It almost doesn’t hurt.
I just want it all.

Lovecraft

That is not dead which can eternal lie.
And with strange aeons even death may die
“They were not composed altogether of flesh and blood. They had shape...but that shape was not made of matter. When the stars were right, They could plunge from world to world through the sky; but when the stars were wrong, They could not live. But although They no longer lived, They would never really die. They all lay in stone houses in Their great city of R'lyeh, preserved by the spells of mighty Cthulhu for a glorious resurrection when the stars and the earth might once more be ready for them
The secret priests would take great Cthulhu from His tomb to revive His subjects and resume His rule of earth....Then mankind would have become as the Great Old Ones; free and wild and beyond good and evil, with laws and morals thrown aside and all men shouting and killing and revelling in joy. Then the liberated Old Ones would teach them new ways to shout and kill and revel and enjoy themselves, and all the earth would flame with a holocaust of ecstasy and freedom”.
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn, which translates as In his house at R’lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.

Rack Fuel

Feeling the breaths move from forms and the streets with their alleys built to cradle. Quick calls for far away lust. Dreary boredom never gains a foothold. The lives are not to be shared by some, and not to be held to light. Dissected and equated. There are the usual protagonists and dealers of dreams. Wanted. So Wanted. Maybe it will all work out. But even if disaster and pain was inevitable, the lust and smiles would still try.
I gave a bum fifty euros, watched a wild weirdo attack a bar, tangled my limbs on the dance floor, and still my mind races with Fire.