quiznuts -

the romance is gone? far from it, baby. it's just in intensive care. we beat it senseless with our baseball bats but couldn't kill the beast.

just kidding.
or are we?
nevermind.

let us continue. the clown sitting before the now fixed computer thinking dirty thoughts while the fat black cat stares at him typing not poem about our theory of everything. as if we know shit. but maybe we do. maybe we know whole bunches of shit.

it's doubtful but possible.
but where were we before all this happened?
coffee, toke, cigarette.
that's the ticket.

gazorbnik is "central" to our theory. gazorbnik is our theory. nothing on earth can stop it but a butterfly sneeze. gazorbniking is fun and karma profitable. try.

but isis is displeased. no one came to her fabulous party who was anybody. what's a mother to do?
on the other side though, we have recently tried to define gazorbnik with meaning. is this possible? who would know yes or no - or maybe? not you.
gazorbnik is slippery as a greased electric eel on meth. gazorbnik is a zebra, either black stripes on white or white stripes on black or black and white stripes on aqua pink.
you decide.
yes, you - the victim.

haha.

but who is laughing now but the evil geniuses ruling the world? they got us down and we may never get up.
the mind shift/ship is ready to more or less extent to pick up passengers with its cosmic webs. can you feel it? it's true!

we are laughing too. we suspect that after the shit hits the fan there will be peace in a while when everything settles back into some sorta routine.

breathing hard the clown typing more not poem comes to realize again it may all be a dream someone is having around here. he's unsure if it might be himself. anything could be possible.
he lights another cigarette almost but decides to wait. give his sorry lungs a rest awhile, ok?
he'll be dead soon enough.
he is curious about what death might be like if anything at all but instant oblivion.
the world as he knows it vanishing into a fading dot of light on an old tv tube.
he had a vision once while receiving ECT in his youth.
he wasn't ready as he is ready now.

some weird modern piano music with tv from the other room in the background - some comical news show.
who says we're going to hell?
poo on them and lots of it.
we may be on our hands and knees but we're headed for heaven or bust, baby.
put that in your bong and smoke it.

we'll tear the kingdom down before we surrender. it's an easy thing to do once one realizes it's all in our heads.
no more robots.
no more flying cars.
no future, baby.
and the past is full of regrets.

be here now.
and away we go!
wheee!

it's all 1st class on the mind shift/ship. room to move and then some.
move on out.
what do we have to fear now we have faced fear itself?
you know what we mean?

the clown is afraid of nearly everything. something is out to get him, and it will get him in the end.
monkeys all around. how fun is that? haha - funny monkeys and funny monkey business. shake those bones. let it spin outta control - just like we planned.
remember?

it was a day like another other spring day in paris. not like it used to be, but this is now. at least it was then.
we were all zipped up when the saucers landed. everything was cool. but there will always be those who panic and those who follow until the whole city is wailing and moaning and rioting and looting.
is paris burning?
is the world?
are we?
we're always burning, baby. burning with love and hate, and don't be late.
anyway, as time went on we realize this all might not be happening but some sorta PTSD acid flashback thing in our heads. still that did not dissuade us from running for the hills where the eucalyptus grow and excitedly ask each other what the fuck and each replying i don't fucking know until we calmed down enough to attempt to reason it.
that is when we conspired together to take over the world with our gazorbnik showing us the way.
then we go our separate ways never to be seen again.

so that's that story the clown makes up about gazorbnik and all concerned.
why should anything be any different?
another toke.
making shit up is one of the ways to go if one is so inclined. cuz that's all most anybody else does - except of course the rationalogic realists - in one form or another and all that noise.
bless this mess and all ships at sea.

so what if the clown talks to imaginary friends? is there peace on earth? let us know when you have that together before you judge, asshole.
the winds howl and the ship of fools is turned about and sails back to home port again. the regular citizens are not pleased to have them return.
now what? fate has slapped them in the face again. they have a meeting and return with a verdict to shoot on sight any fool who comes ashore. otherwise let them starve.

then the clown thinks once more about 0. a bizarre not-thing we take for granted is nothing at all. that may be what it means but what something means and what something actually is are 2 different things much of the time. but do we know what anything is? or do we only know what anything is supposed to mean among us?
schrödinger knew better than that, didn't she?
of course what reality we happen to be playing with at the time has some bearing on what is believed to be the truth of the matter as it relates to greater truths all the way to infinity? oh, please...

what do we believe now? do we believe in not believing? do we become "clear" of all that business? believing would seem to be a successful evolutionary trait to have gotten us this far, but may destroy us in the end, no?

gazorbnik might be 0 with all the mystery that comes with it.
how do we explain 0 with knowing so very little about what exactly what 0 represents?
a goose egg.

0 represents no units of a particular thing at a particular spacetime coordinate location. there are no apples in this box in the hallway at 11:11:11 pm.
but true nothing does not operate that way as we have explained before when no one was paying attention off playing video games or some such.
we can't be serious, can we?
it's doubtful.

no matter about that as we continue along whichever ways we might happen to go from here to...?
everywhere leads to 0. everywhere is 0 - or is that 0 is everywhere? either are not the same as the other might be thought to mean.
dig?

so whose fault is it?
one of many questions we could ask if we wanted to. but we choose not to at this time - though we all know the answer that few will admit. ripples in spacetime revealing images in the shimmering light and shadow. the god narcissus hypnotized by its distorting reflections that are ourselves in the physical world.
this is one way to think about it imagining what we will. it takes one to know one. gang rape. but this is an olden story that makes no sense in the future of society. light another cigarette.