disinvention

i enjoy being able to ask a 75yr old man for two woodchucks, a dead guy and a white russian.

wtf this blog has little red spelling mistake thingies now. I wonder if the learned among us who stumble upon these publicly scrawled diaromaries with distaste towards their artistic vocabular endowments.

I wonder as to what end this one will render itself?


i percieve the feasability of forming one's own machine that with constant monitoring will record your thoughts, and upon your death, spit you back out (perhaps in a clone of your last body.)

i've been spending more time having fun that really working on anything. i kind of miss it. im horribly unselfdisciplined when i get out of the mood.

i realized that there was an oddly broad spectrum under the category "things that go into my mouth" titled "things that bleed before i eat them".


man i almost forgot about packages.