Today I post upon my journal something wise... Or not... I could be rambling these words while high on lemon grass and gasoline. See this is an experiment... Or a ritual or whatever. To mash words... Make sense of them... Or jumble them till they hurl away from your feet to infinite entropy. Oh gosh the moon is snarling. But for me the penny is in the bucket... The shadow is overlain with trickles of sugar.

Mind you, the earth to me is all but slimy and green, and red perhaps. Such is the way of our father time. To run continuous like a river. All we are are leaves falling from the bayside figs. And we go downstream. But we can go the opposite way, can't we? Upstream I mean... Against the tide... Against time.... Against the word....

Well those weren't my words, but words from an astophysicist who resembles one Neil Gaiman... Ohhhh how time is represented by sand... And so is sleep... Dream... And so is... Sand, yes?

So tell me, am I a fool? Or am I just typing random concepts and principles from the corners of my callous mind? Perhaps I am... Well you are fools.... Yeah yeah whatever..