WHERE DO YOU GO? (not a rhetorical question)

[Epimetheus]

Right, so, it doesn't matter whether you go to a party and try to make the grandest old time you can, or go and stand in the corner saturated in misery. I mean the party's going to be over in the morning, right? 

Pretty sure that wasn't his point.

It wasn't where I thought it was going until the last paragraph, which seems to say exactly that.

[tyrannosaurus vex]

That is not what the point was. It's just a friendly reminder that the clock is ticking. I have a dim view of every possible activity we can engage in to pass the time until our time is up, but that's on me. You should, naturally, prefer something to something else. There's no wrong answer, and there's no right answer. The clock is ticking. It's getting cold outside.

Get up. Get moving. Warm your bones.

Winter's coming.

[Epimetheus]

Ooh.

Now I like it.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

That is not what the point was. It's just a friendly reminder that the clock is ticking. I have a dim view of every possible activity we can engage in to pass the time until our time is up, but that's on me. You should, naturally, prefer something to something else. There's no wrong answer, and there's no right answer. The clock is ticking. It's getting cold outside.

Get up. Get moving. Warm your bones.

Winter's coming.

The tick tock tick tock never ends.

A girl with a nice ass walks past you, your eyes go south....

Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock
Left cheek up
Right cheek up
Left cheek up...

What does it matter?

Isn't there something more important that you should do?

October is sometimes a horrible month.

Bass
Snare
Bass
Snare

It's so cold. It's so cold nothing that I ingest will warm me.

Nevertheless, her butt goes ticktockticktock

Everything is in tempo, at about 135 bpm.

Don't believe me?

Your sense of timing is fucked then. Tap it out.

I walk home as quickly as possible.
Bass
Snare
Bass
Snare......................................

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Blood drop


Blood drop



Blood drop


Hey, dude. That's an egg timer. It's got blood in it thought.


Drip


Drop


Drip


Drop


That's my blood you know.

Yours too.

I'll die sooner, but ah.... try to convince that guy to reset it when you can.




And Paul said, "It's later than you think it is...."






Paul said that a long time ago....






Paul said that before he really should have.





Tick


Tock


Tick


Tock


Yeah man, that looks good... clockwork.

My glass is progressively draining, like sand in the hourglass.



I'm happy. I think. And if I am not, don't tell me.

Drip drop drip drop
Tick tock tick tock

[Don Coyote]

 

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Shit yeah

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Brainstem's taking a shit I guess.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Brainstem's taking a shit I guess.

Mine does that.

Cheap American-built shit that it is.

[tyrannosaurus vex]

Where do you go?

Today I saw an asshole in a truck plastered with campaign stickers. He stopped his truck in traffic, popped his fat ass out of the driver's seat, and waddled in his overpriced suit to a lawn by the road where he stooped and removed a competitor's campaign sign. He tossed it in his truck and got going again, but it was too late for any of the 7 or 8 cars behind him to make it through the green light. He got through, just barely, on the yellow, the lucky bastard.

For him, there are no rules. And that's an important thing to remember because he's one of the guys whose job is to make the rules. They have it figured out. It's all bullshit. Well, all except for one fleeting detail. This bullshit train, like any train, has a caboose. He knows where he goes: wherever the fuck he wants. Where do you go?

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Brainstem's taking a shit I guess.

Mine does that.

Cheap American-built shit that it is.

I'll ask it to do better then.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Where do you go?

Today I saw an asshole in a truck plastered with campaign stickers. He stopped his truck in traffic, popped his fat ass out of the driver's seat, and waddled in his overpriced suit to a lawn by the road where he stooped and removed a competitor's campaign sign. He tossed it in his truck and got going again, but it was too late for any of the 7 or 8 cars behind him to make it through the green light. He got through, just barely, on the yellow, the lucky bastard.

For him, there are no rules. And that's an important thing to remember because he's one of the guys whose job is to make the rules. They have it figured out. It's all bullshit. Well, all except for one fleeting detail. This bullshit train, like any train, has a caboose. He knows where he goes: wherever the fuck he wants. Where do you go?

He may make the rules, but I key the fuck out of his car.

It's all about the small victories.

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Where do you go?

Today I saw an asshole in a truck plastered with campaign stickers. He stopped his truck in traffic, popped his fat ass out of the driver's seat, and waddled in his overpriced suit to a lawn by the road where he stooped and removed a competitor's campaign sign. He tossed it in his truck and got going again, but it was too late for any of the 7 or 8 cars behind him to make it through the green light. He got through, just barely, on the yellow, the lucky bastard.

For him, there are no rules. And that's an important thing to remember because he's one of the guys whose job is to make the rules. They have it figured out. It's all bullshit. Well, all except for one fleeting detail. This bullshit train, like any train, has a caboose. He knows where he goes: wherever the fuck he wants. Where do you go?

You think that you know where you're going.

And that's how everyone ends up on the subway rather than Amtrak.

Funny thing is, how the hell did you get on Amtrak?

If you started out in Boston, I can offer you a couple of possibilities.

Thing is Boston is not America. Boston isn't even Providence, even though there is little to separate the two other than Southern Mass, where we think EoC lives, but really, should we take his word on the matter? No. Boston's a phenomenon. If you've never lived here, you won't understand. And we're not trying to compete with the weirdness that is Providence, or Tucson, or Portland Oregon. No. The only thing we can compete with there is the permanence of Tucson. Where Tucson is a whole being, Boston and Providence are twins. But which twin are you getting? I don't even know half the time. I only know that I am a Bostonian that enjoys being in Providence.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Sometimes, when I can, I go home to my family. We sit around and crack jokes and talk about the week and make food together and then eventually we all drift off to bed, grateful that we don't have to rise to the alarm in the  morning.

Sometimes, when I can, I go out with my friends, and we drink a couple of drinks and eat some food we didn't have to make and talk about people we know and what's been happening in our lives.

Sometimes, when I can, I go to a house where a child who has been either abandoned by a parent or who was taken away from a parent lives, hopefully a good house but often not such a good house, and I listen to the child talk about events in her life. And then I come home and I put my arms around my children and I sit on the internet and type things and then I try to go to sleep.

[hunter s.durden]

Tick
Tock

True story: This is written over the door to my room. That way when I leave I can remember that my time may be finite.

But I can't anyone where I go when I leave. It's just not something people understand.