Chronic delirium

And all of a sudden it doesn’t matter anymore. Ambiguity is my January friend. Where are you rabbit, pack your bags and hop hop! I have had enough of the tiger. Stripy cats smell like gutter, more in need of anger management than I. Fucking conceited creatures.

Even though I don’t do alcohol or anything of that sort, I think I suffer from chronic delirium; unable to think and speak clearly, all I can do is write with my peculiar and clumsy style that embraces German, British and American English. Mental confusion is an earth-thing. If a mass of people – if all of them feel the exact same thing, whilst you are in the middle causing an unnatural flow, then you know you are the only sane living creature among them. The rest doesn’t matter. Think about yourself for a change. The mental confusion you feel is healthy and normal. You are not the problem, it’s the people. I don’t believe in anything which they call “universal” when people are apparently feeling the exact same thing. If every single person on this earth was able to think for him/herself, then the word “universal” wouldn’t even exist. Well, at least you are not like them. I wonder what if spoken or written language didn’t exist to connect the millions of us, then what? We will all draw pictures together, fuck and go to sleep. What would happen with all those emotions which we all need to dump? How can we even comprehend or shape ourselves? Pick flowers or break glass? How will we know what means what?

Being human is a wonderful thing as long as you disagree with everything, especially with things that are not you. Moliere values honesty just as much, but he says that honesty needs to be delivered with tact. I suppose this is to indicate that you should respect your fellow people.

It sounds like charity to me – Bible related. Don’t get me wrong, I respect people who clean toilets and I pay them. Though I hate to pay them, but I can’t help respecting them for doing their job for which they get paid! Especially those who are even able to put up a sincere smile on their face and say ‘thank you’. What are you thanking me for! I hate your job and by the way I wet the floor, because I wasn’t aiming right. (I squat by the way; I don’t sit on public toilets.)

How can it be put down into words when a little gnome is running circles around your head? I think he’s trying to create a vortex, but he is weak, I think first he will puke before he manages anything. He is cute though, only too unfit to make me go crazy.

That train in my dream came back for me even though I had missed it. I don’t know who the driver was. But it’s not often that I feel thankful in my dreams, especially for a train driver. Bus driver stops for you every now and then, but has it ever happened anywhere in the world that an engine driver stops and comes back for you? I was close to despair during the first half of that dream, in the second part I was full of hope. When I woke up I was thinking of flying turtles.

I have changed my other blog’s title to ‘The march of the suicide pigs’. Seriously, it’s about time to view things from a different angle. Why would a pig fall from a roof, Mr. Greene, if not wanting to commit suicide? You never know whether an animal is aware of its destiny. Not when you believe in karma anyway.

I refuse, I refuse to feel anything at all. Feelings…my heart has the tendency to flirt with the blood in my veins. Sometimes it pumps so much blood that I begin to blush in my face and at the same time I feel ants is tickling me inside my stomach. How can an automaton feel such sensation?

Maybe it’s time to reboot my low-functioning inner system, before I crash or freeze. I’m not made for this.

What fool am I anyway to allow my curiosity seep through like that?

Wasn’t Ellen a complete idiot in that video? She is still looking for her orgasm which I hid well in one of her favourite Depeche Mode songs. I’m such a sadist sometimes.

How can I hide someone’s orgasm? This is one of the few things that an incompetent writer can do.

My life number is 9, therefore, I’m a niner. In my opinion, all niners have to make use of the number 9. You can move mountains with this number, if you want. It’s the highest of all digits. You can even cross oceans with this number and break all boundaries if you have the guts.

I owe this number a lot. It will forever be a part of me. It’s now 22:59 – how wonderful is this?

Sleep and giggle. Find the orgasm in the right song.

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