Archive for Alex

vogon prose 2

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , on 13th October, 2009 by kal

what am i doing here?

something was  amiss.

do you think he will figure it out?

i don’t know, we’ll have to wait and see. can’t ever tell about dear Alex. but one thing for sure, we’re stuck with him. or are we? what choices do we have?

i… i don’t know.

huh. well, all right. so, coming back to Alex…

how did i get here?

wow. i didn’t see that coming. i thought he’d say something more like ‘oh no, not again’.

really? i was going for a long ramble, something like

imagine a room full of people. any people. they don’t all have to be the same, or even similar. but they don’t have to be different either. it just has to be a random bunch of people. think of something you’ve seen. yeah. hold on to that. what is it? come on, tell me… what’s your room like?

isnork! he said “what’s your room like?” as if he’s trying to get to know a girl

how do you know he’s not trying to get to know a guy?

you bastard.

now now, be polite. he asked you a question.

He did NOT ask mE a question.

ooooOOooo touchy! touchy! fine, then, i will. could you tell Alex what your room is like?

it’s muddy hole with diamonds for entertainment… ilikeawhisper!

what kinda stupid room is that?


vogon prose 1

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , on 9th October, 2009 by kal

so it begins. the drums beat wildly across the ancient night. d d d d d d d d d d d d d d ddd d d d d d d d d dd d d woman on couch in fetal position | technicolour mashup | does that look like a typewriter with a microphone poking itself in the eye? | giving titles to pictures. use? amusement. humour. LoLcats, dude. yeah. fuck. fucked that one up. well. it was a picture of a cat only. yeah. heh… yeah. you don’t have a clue about what i’m saying right now, do you? awesome. awesome. I got you. or Not? Or not? OoOOoooOoooO are you channeNnelling Doctor WhO??///?//?????? stroking thumbs between words… aha! i think i just noticed that my middle finger taps.. the . key, instead of the ooo… this is interesting. basically i move my fingers… aha.

heh… too obscure. no, devil, you can’t make me. fancing finsgetsa dim the duma ow imf aj jaindrn;aldjfa jsie fjslkams’ a


it must be something shiny, little drummer boy

{italics} are you going publish this? {/italics}

Am I going to publish this?, Alex asked himself.

Haha! This is new!! Yes. Yes yes yes… this is interesting. So:- Alex is the one asking himself (in rather unusual english “are you going to publish this?” meaning that he

you know what, treat it like a conjecture. try and figure out what it means. it might take you 400 years. i hope it doesn’t. because then i won’t be around to know you got it.

it’s been fun. yeah. it’s all good.

(oct 9, 2009) added the tag ‘conjecture’, among others.

to exist or not, that is often a question

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on 6th October, 2009 by kal

…to borrow form from dead poets or not, is sometimes not even a consideration.

Alex was slowly beginning to realize that much about existence was optional.

First, I think he grappled with the question of whether existence itself was optional. Realising that his parents had indeed not consulted him before his mother gave birth to him, he concluded that he was created regardless of whether he wanted to be created.

Was he then like a liberated slave, who did not know what it meant to be free? What would he do now with his freedom? Hmm…, he thought. So if creation is not optional, what about destruction, and the bits between?

Destruction, or death, demise, finito, he opined was clearly constructible. It could be done. A bullet to the head oughtta do it. Even a fall off the Eiffel Tower. Alex was French. He watched too many American Sitcoms.

Constructibility, or ‘free will’, as it were, Alex felt, needed motive. Can I go from one random act to another?, he asked. Rob a liquor store one day, preach the bible another? He then asked, Can I commit an arbitrary act of suicide?

It seemed highly improbable to Alex that unconstruction could be voluntarily random. No, it would need to be motivated by something.

With this thought Alex went to sleep, bent on dreaming up the depressing, the dreary, the dark matter that drums about in the mind of the Suicidal.

(to be continued, hopefully)

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