I'm working on a project. I don't really know what I'm doing. I realize on frequent inner levels of perception that I don't have the factual knowledge I need for full on engagement outwardly so the intuitive elements take over and I navigate an all-sense encompassing slipstream into a painting of a vessel I once saw hanging in an abandoned house. Well, the painting wasn't actually there but you could tell where it had been hanging by the brighter space on those dirty peeling walls. I remember stepping back for a moment, peering beyond darker shores and standing there on those beaches painting a solemn shell, and framing it for eternity.

It’s just a jump to the Left!

A total eclipse of the sun is a black hole wherein you get a Moontan...

 winter wrote:

Indeed! So where's the beef?

What the beerswallow, barhoppers! Who wrote that crap? Love songs? Cut to the chase, Horatio! Does truth actually exist or is truth decided by the collective spoils and let consequences be the door prize? Truth is an ideal, not an absolute. People have to agree on the definition and purpose of exactly what a truth even is. But Proof? Rhymes real purty and has something to show for for all the wailing and gnashing. Well hell boys, let's think about this here thing for a second...

...I mean, what is a good love song for if not to break apart harsh reality hiding behind irresponsible, dare I say,  irrepressible persuasiary and made up wordkin...

To dither or to druther. That is the question...

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity...

A philosopher invited me over to admire his model railroad set, but all it had was a single trolley car with two straight tracks and one switch.

pffft, this thread has only a little more than 25,000 posts, such an exaggeration...

It was a cold and gloomy New Years Day. That night, the sun shone brightly like inspiration under an iceberg. The wind howled and for once I felt full sailed...

if anyone needs me, I'll be behind the large green mantis in my back yard for a while.

I once sat for half an hour to watch a mantid stalk a ladybug. patient, cold, and implacable, the little green killer moved with alien grace over the lawn.

this, of course, was a diversion; the much larger mantis was behind me the whole time. in spite of the excruciating agony as it seized and devoured me, I was able to retain my sense of whimsy and critique its table manners.

pain makes fools of the wise, cowards of the strong, and bolognas of the pig.

time sings the same song, endless and inventive. it's only people like you who think it's freeform jazz.

In case you were wondering, your wonder is in a case. that way, in case of wonders, you're wonderfully cased.

Fortune favors the bold, but Business Week favors the italic.

Do you suffer from pleuresy? Grippe? Lumbago?

How would you know? I mean, what even are these things? Do they even exist, or are they euphemisms for common bodily functions that we used to be too polite to talk about?

Well, whatever. Dr.* Wittgenstein's All-Purpose Liquid Restorative will not only cure them, it will make you taller and less prone to awkward social encounters. Try some today! Recommended by people we've paid.

*Not an actual doctor. All models engaging in active sporty things in stock photos shown actual size. Not available in Latin.

Unlike a lot of Jewish women I'm not angry about my upbringing.

Also unlike a lot of Jewish women, I'm not Jewish. Or a woman.

How much for the Viking funeral?

What if I bring my own Viking?