This is the future so where's my rocketpack?

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Tis another cold and misty morning. So cold. Though it's still warmer than inside work.

So I just won this on a bottle stall which would mean yay but I don't drink. So...um...great. This seems to be a regular occurrence when I try my luck on the bottle stall. But I'm now thinking that if I can convince the universe that I dislike money then maybe I'll win the lottery.

My purchases from @littleshopofheroes seems to have gone from one end of the spectrum to the other. The brutal monstrousness of volume two of Sink to the far flung futuristic adventuring of Star Trek: The Q Conflict. I'm liking that Star Trek cover, it does look very tattooable.

My lunchtime drinks have been coming with little knitted hats on the bottle tops. I know they're for charity but that's really no excuse. Those hats are never going to fit. I can only think of one part of the anatomy that those will fit on and they'll only fall off when it gets really cold. Because you might start sneezing and it'll fall of your nose. Wait...what part were you thinking of?

There's something about the quiet wilderness where you can enjoy the solitude of nature. The silence of the great outdoors where no one shall ever find you. You can enjoy the foliage and the hypnotic nothingness that Except it's bollocks really. The wilderness isn't really that silent. The water is rushing like a torrent that fills your ears with a constant echo. The trees are festooned with chattering squirrels and bits who really need to work on their harmonies if they're going to perform for Snow White while using their feathered arses to polish the crockery. There's people out there too. People with dogs. People with dogs that bark and run through the water and give you the fear they're going to jump up on you and mess up your nice coat. There's mud too. The sort of mud that follows you home and leaves itself all up the stairs. I'm not entirely convinced about this outside stuff.

I will walk 10,000 steps and I will walk 10,000 more and...wait that's 20,000 steps...bugger that. And really I've only done 7,500.

I have done, still do, and will forever maintain that talking is hard. The alternative may be even harder as I can't write that fast or legibly and my hands aren't dextrous enough for sign language. Of all the forms of communications available the typing is currently on top while the talking is somewhere in a hole where I've tried burying it but it still keeps making its way to the surface. I suppose it's necessary. It's just a bit frustrating when your brain thinks up the most amazing piece of verbal gymnastics that will wow the crowd only for your mouth to have the linguistic skills of a newly born giraffe that's had it's shoelaces tied together. Giraffes can wear shoes. You don't know what they get up to when those nature documentary people are hanging about waiting for them to do something. I have however tried talking on purpose. It was hard. Even though I was reading the words what I wrote it did no go at all smoothly. It did not beat me. Though it would take a very determined person to get to the end of the audio version of all the little stories that accompanied the "33 Days of Halloween". May the deity of your choosing look favourably on you if you try. The link is in the bio for the moment.

Day Thirty Three: Once upon a time in the middle of the night one dead man got up to fight. But alas there was no one to fight. Which is probably for the best as he wasn't very good at it. Hence his being dead in the first place. But while being dead is full of the long awaited sleep that eluded him during his living years there is always that one day where he and all others like him spring from the other side to mix with those who have not become part of the living challenged. Those who have seen all they could see and shuffled off do not feel the need to join them but for the rest there is always that one more thing and tonight is the night to try and find it. While to some it is a celebration to others it is a frantic fight to finish that one last thing that will give them that eternal rest. For somewhere out there they will find it and should they make it before the sunrises they will have that chance to cross over completely and finally find out what lives beyond the limbo they're stuck in. For the chance to die happily ever after.

Day Thirty Two: Once upon a time there was Halloween. And on Halloween people would laugh and cheer and indulge in costumery and an over abundance of confectionary. At least that is the side that the masses would only ever see. There was also the other side of Halloween. The breaking down of the barrier between the light and the dark as all the most monstrous of beasts would slip through for a night of debauchery and destruction. But how could this be you may ask yourself. Wouldn't there be tales of such monstrousness that let blood and beasts be unleashed for a night of unholy terror. To which there is an even darker secret. One that sweeps away any sign that there was a gathering of the grotesque. That mops up the murderous mountain of miscreation. They ensure that there is nothing for anyone to talk about. And should someone try they remember to put their name on the list for next year. So should you see something out the corner of your eye or suspect that the mask in front of you is a little too real then smile and walk on by. Do not give it another thought. Because the less you know, the safer you will be. And you will not just live happily ever after but more importantly you will live.

Day Thirty One: Once upon a time there was a man of science. He couldn't live without it. He would science the pants of anything or anyone he could. Unfortunately he was terrible with people so was only ever successful with anything he created. And this lead him to ponder. If he couldn't be with the people then he would make people he could be with. It was a messy mountain of trial and error as he pieced together the perfect plan of persons to which he was equipped to people. While parts were hard to find he did manage procure enough to make his plan come together. And he did love it when a plan came together. And so he sat. Surrounded by the friends he had made. And silence. He had made them in his own likeness. While not in the physical they had the likeness of mind. Such a thing seemed so perfect on paper but the reality was a people who had the inability to people. And so they sat, silently ever after.

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Ponderings

Do pregnant Sausage Dog’s bellies rub on the ground?
No, don’t tell me that
the long friday the 13th
Spider-meh….this one probably has spoilers
I’ve decided…I’m not going foetal in the corner
I saw the Wonder Woman…nae spoliers
My body hurts but I’ll do it again

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