2001: A Notebook Entry or The Internet is the Toilet Wall of the World

   The Internet is the toilet wall of the world.

“Ah, now I see what the problem is,” called the telephone line repairman down the ladder to his apprentice,

“...this junction box is clogged up with blown kisses.”

The most terrifying thing in the world is another human being.

   In the gray, cold, earliest moment of dawn, hanging motionless mists rested, invisibly suspended above the lawn outside his little brother’s bedroom window.

 Through a patch where the night-breathed condensation on the window glass had run into enough beads run together to make a clear space, there appeared two snails entwined and wrapped around one another into a sinuous, brown, irregularly-knotted rope of flesh, moving so slowly as though in another dimension of slowed down passion time, like they did not want to wake anyone, or allow anything in the universe to be alerted to their writhing clasp.

   Like a fleshy vine growing in stop frame time photography replaying in slow motion with such incredibly intense passion in their undulating coiling and dangling, (and without their shells) as they wavered from the shadowy ledge seated protruding branch of a succulent swollen leafed plant in the rockery.

That experience belonged to my little brother.

   

   He was someone who would scan the faces of the crowds, incessantly searching for a particular face, which really was all of them.

   There are now so many satellites in the night sky that navigating by the stars is impossible.

   What were the thoughts of the Roman guards when, at the crucifixion of Christ, this man who had been condemned to death for the crime of refusing to admit that he was not the incarnation of God, at the time when his sentence was being carried out, the Sun was blotted from the sky by a complete solar eclipse?*

 

  The final scream of a kid showing off on a skateboard.

 

At the base of the sea cliff we collected the lemmings, scooping their post-suicide leap bloodied corpses into old, long since emptied flour sacks. Back at the bakery, Norbias released pressurized gas from an ingenious balloon with eyedropper attachment into their tiny bodies, bloating them. He'd stolen this idea.

   Whilst he did this I used the flea bait to coax our stock of fleas from the large jar. They jumped and hopped daintily at what their sensory organs perceived as a delectable brown chunk of gourmet fodder. Little did they know that the bait had this time been impregnated with a heavy sleep inducing sedative!

   Once slumbering, and by this time Norbias had inflated the majority of the lemmings and joined me, we commenced the act of disguising the happily slumbering fleas as sesame seeds by spraying them lightly and repeatedly with layers of a thin toasted yellow tinted varnish to build up a convincingly sesame seed-like sheen and hue.

   Once the lemmings had been rolled in honey and then the immobilized and camouflaged fleas could be rolled on, we put our plan into action. But, we had to pursue our goal without rest. For the town would soon be stirring, as dawn was quickly coming upon us.

   Sport holds an important place in western culture because they are all constructed as contests and games. We played games as children and so the obsession people have with sports reflects the part of them which is still clinging to and yearns for the past.

“Hey, look Ma! I’ve turned day into night!”

Now don’t let your eyes off that screen.

Could be anyone.

These are the formulas:

1. Talent + Development + Motivation + Opportunity = Success.

2. Talent + Development + Motivation - Opportunity = Failure.

Those formulas are flawed.

Any variation of them is flawed.

   It is not the right of any artisan or exceptionally able person in their field to allow the failings in their personality to be attributed to or justified by the existence of their talent.

   Aptitude or talent can be inherited at birth or developed by training, either way, they are abilities over which the holder has no right to claim as truly their own, hence the term, ‘gifted’.

Men like to drive their cars fast.

   The old man continued with his story not realising the other chair was occupied by a ghost.

  The woman was astounded to see a ghostly form run form the hall into the town square. Wake me up at sunset, please.

A time three months after Kurt Cobain died when his picture was on the cover of nearly every magazine on the newsstand.

   In the child’s dream all of the significant people he would later meet stood in front of an overturned wardrobe in front of him, grinning in silence and he felt the warmth of his future affectionate love for each of them.

   The wood which composed the back of the front door began to grow branches.

*An eclipse recorded by Chinese astronomers who had compiled charts which chronicled thousands of years of celestial events.