My Computer is Covered in Honey

  (a network-status collection)

 

My computer is covered in honey: I am licking it off my fingers.

I am only as truthful as an unexpected breath on a battlefield:

you don't have to trust it, you just have to take the next breath.

I love shaking an orphaned maraca like a magician. I'm trying to

say that we are all magicians, but they cower as if the escaping

daemons will frighten the angels away. Who among us could

teach the world a breath it has not already tasted? The

inevitable result of all this destruction is the creation which has

been waiting to stand in its place. I sense it's imminent arrival.

So often I blow wasps off my lips with a parting kiss.

My computer is covered in honey: I am licking it off my fingers.

I forgive you for your gifts. I sustain friendships which can expose

a certain mercy in brutality - something which vindicates and

defines our virtuous defiance. If you are ready to dance with

your dream, I am here to tell you, your dream is ready to dance

with you...and has been waiting all this time. G'nite. Dream

your ass off. So, how was your dream? Don't mess with my left

index finger. It's a one finger fist, out for vengeance. The other

fingers can only tuck themselves under cover and wistfully

admire its derring-do.

My computer is covered in honey: I am licking it off my fingers .

The Knobs Lie. The Knobs are Created by Liars Just Like Us.

The Knobs obviously have never seen this place before. The

knobs keep competing with each other. The knobs are hard to

party with. Don't we have something better to talk about than

our knobs? When we wake up for the next little while, we should

walk outside to the start of the path to our doorstep, and piss

there. Then maybe we can get together and have that talk

we've been meaning to have about the future of civilization.

Sorry for the outburst. For lasting relief take Extra Strength

Damnital.

My computer is covered in honey: I am licking it off my fingers.

Telepathy? Consider the moments when you putter while

conversing. You may change tasks and leave something

somewhere, then end up asking your companion where you left

it - and they inevitably respond by pointing like a dutiful bird

dog. Their eyes recorded the movement, but you have actually

abandoned a thought to their care. Consider also the solitary

moments when you go to meet a task, only to arrive and forget

what it was. Returning to the place where you had the thought

is the most reliable way of remembering it. Sometimes our minds

get the dropsies. I'm drowning in a landfill of superlative

honorifics. People used to tell me to write it all in a journal. I

avoid being trapped either by a problem, or it's proposed

solution. I will abandon telemarketing and pursue my old dream

career as a contract criminal. Do not fall in love with me, you

will only end up hurt in the end.