Two many sandwitches. What? Beef jerky. Huh? Stop rubbing you're I and pay me what I'm do. I don't think we yet have the technology to make cents of these words. I know it's out there. But it's on the leeward side of the rock, out the way of the plow, so to speak, while we're sitting here facing the hurricane strength tradewinds. Do you follow? I'm afraid so. Excuse me, we've got visitors.

Reality is shifting. It's nigh undeniable. And yet, all the while, the seemingly indefatigable approach into a cartoon universe has unexpectedly melted away as the chokingly material aspect of everyday life threatens to, um, choke us with vomit or something. But, like we previously reported, reality is indeed shifting, and as our universe drifts, we find ourselves pulled more and more into the story on a grander and more solidified scale never quite approached on our numerous marijuana- or mushroom-enhanced reality-juggling mental trips. Or perhaps we're just getting lazy. But know, I mean no, you know, know this, we're experiencing an influx of palpable meaning. Perhaps we are approaching death. What makes my body think that its sense of smell will do us any good in such a scenario? All is illusion.

We are living in dangerous times. My speakers are spitting out conservative radio personalities and, as enthralling as the paint specks on the wall no doubt most certainly are, we can't help but feel we are having a conversation with the devil-archetype-formation-structure-machine. We miss Yasmin. And we love her. It's all the doing of that Bob Marley and his blather about cornerstones. We are engaged in a reading of the Mass Psychology of Fascism, put out by the Orgone Institute Press, which we stumbled across in one of our few unstructured ramblings through our school library. And our individual life couldn't possibly be more relatively empty -- on its face. Someone once said that, wait a minute while my archivist digs up the material, oh you've got it already: If there is a unified theory, then the metaphor can e found everywhere. It depends not on your actions and the simple twists of fate you may encounter, ut upon your holding the key. Science is a trick of language. Everything is illustrative.

Tonight we learn that time is a crock of shit.

COMMUNICATION

This may be your home. We are dealing here of course with a very subtle problem -- how one person tries to find out what another person wants to know, when the latter cannot describe his need precisely.

ANIMAL CRACKERS

An inquiry is merely a micro-event in a shifting non-linear adaptive mechanism.
And in me, a giant network that includes me...is now connected to me.
Well, art is art, isn't it? Still, on the other hand, water is water. And east is east and west is west and if you take cranberries and stew them like applesauce they taste much more like prunes than rhubarb does. Now, uh...now you tell me what you know.

Life's so fragile, a successful virus clinging to a speck of mud, suspended in endless nothing.

It made a helluva lot more sense the last time around. The colors are still engaging, though.