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Messages - Eater of Clowns

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91
I just found this on the note taking app on my phone.

"The clock that waits. It has not stopped it has arrived."

 :eek:

92
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: BIG MAN PLANS
« on: April 14, 2015, 08:35:34 pm »
Quote
When I am rich, I will bring water to Tucson just to spite it.

You know exactly how this will end. It'd be like that Ice palace/rink that got built in Turkmenistan(?). Shit idea. On so many levels. Where-ever that one was, all it did was cause malaria and mosquitos to spread like fuck.

And this insane fucker wants to do this. To Tucson.

WHAT THE FUCK WOULD SPREAD FROM TUCSON. WHAT. WHAT. EVIL AND HELL IS FUCKING WHAT.

I honestly don't know how much evidence you puppet fuckers need before you do what must be fucking done and string up the false mexico for his string of offences and continued plotting of offences against humanity on what is clearly intended to be a global scale causing death, famine, panic and the simultaneous spread of Gene and Richard Simmons DVDS to collections worldwide.

Any civilised society would have skinned him from their fingernails, slowly. Your restraint causes questions on your moral character.

We shall discuss Roger in due course. We first need to find a jury of "peers" that can later be convicted accordingly.

When I am rich, this man is my voice in all matters. His symbol of office will be a meteorite iron crowbar.

When I am rich, Lillie shall sit upon a throne of chair arms.

93
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: BIG MAN PLANS
« on: April 14, 2015, 07:53:57 pm »
When I am rich, I will have the drop bear genetically engineered.

When I am rich, I will bring water to Tucson just to spite it.

When I am rich, the hedge maze will be equal parts Escher, Giger, and Seuss.

94
I feel like he just wants someone to compliment his gif collection, then he will move on. I will sacrifice myself for the cause...

Hey jonb. Nice gif collection.

 :lulz:

I just like how versatile it is. It's almost like they're completely interchangeable because he isn't saying anything at all.

95
Think for Yourself, Schmuck! / Re: Is chaos about order?
« on: April 14, 2015, 03:28:52 pm »
 :lulz:

96
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: Where I am
« on: April 14, 2015, 12:59:29 am »
Coyote that was incredible stuff.

I was an angry kid and I知 still here an angry adult but the anger is humor now unless it escapes me. I wasn稚 picked on much but sometimes I was the aggressor and I知 ashamed of it still when I think of it. The thing I always was is weird and I had to try and I still have to try, and I知 still here with all my skills watch me go. They used to tell me I was smart and sometimes they tell me I知 funny and a few times they tell me I can write but I am a dispatcher and I am still here.
I was a sucker for a pretty face or two and I had no substance and I was a poor man for my unhappiness but I am still here. I went away to college and I met there so many people and in seven years since many are gone but I am still here and the ones who are still here are why I am still here.

You're still here, in part, because you've become Sams. 

Stay out of the basement.

Things don't always go the best for Sams. But Sams is still here.

97
It would be really cool if I could sleep.   :kingmeh:

The Reverend hath murthered sleep and so Howl shall sleep no more. Roger shall sleep no more.

98
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: Where I am
« on: April 13, 2015, 10:08:32 pm »
I was an angry kid and I知 still here an angry adult but the anger is humor now unless it escapes me. I wasn稚 picked on much but sometimes I was the aggressor and I知 ashamed of it still when I think of it. The thing I always was is weird and I had to try and I still have to try, and I知 still here with all my skills watch me go. They used to tell me I was smart and sometimes they tell me I知 funny and a few times they tell me I can write but I am a dispatcher and I am still here.
I was a sucker for a pretty face or two and I had no substance and I was a poor man for my unhappiness but I am still here. I went away to college and I met there so many people and in seven years since many are gone but I am still here and the ones who are still here are why I am still here.

99
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: Where I am
« on: April 13, 2015, 10:08:12 pm »
 :eek:

100
I like to use dissociation as a tool for horror. What makes the post box bit so visceral is that the dissociation is real here.

I'm glad you didn't let this one die. I think the real strength of this series is how much your voice comes through in it, and this one in particular.

Yeah, I think I only discussed this with Nigel, on account of her being a badass brain expert thingie.  As my brain has tried to route around the damage, after 6 years it is interfering with my visual cortex.  So what happens is that sometimes I see something, and my brain LIES to me about the data it's receiving.  It's not "hallucinations", because I know it's not real, so it's classified as "illusions" or some shit.

But it can make driving interesting.

Yeah I wouldn't say an illusion screaming at you at 80 on the highway is the best time to experience them.

101
Done.

Glad you saved it, I think it's a good one.

I hope you're able to ride this one out. It sounds nasty.

102
I like to use dissociation as a tool for horror. What makes the post box bit so visceral is that the dissociation is real here.

I'm glad you didn't let this one die. I think the real strength of this series is how much your voice comes through in it, and this one in particular.

103
Failed 21C Man post removed.

 :?

I didn't notice a new one. What makes you say it failed?

104
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: Lighterspace
« on: April 13, 2015, 01:26:12 pm »
Saturday night got weird. It was the gentle giant's turn to drive so I hopped into the passenger's seat and rambled my caffeine and booze fueled musings in between destinations. We ended up at some artist's space downtown where a self promoter type spent two hours badly sketching a Simpsons character in between banging rails and talking about Instagram. It wasn't a good time for me. I walked outside and just waited there, people watching the line to get into that faux Irish quasi club. No, the other faux Irish quasi club.

It was the first truly nice day of Spring. I had my light jacket on, the fly one, and leaned my teetering ass over a parking meter waiting for the giant with my hands in my pockets. There was a book of matches in there still and it had to be from a cigar kind of night and fuck could I have gone for a cigar, I thought, turning the matches around and around.

It felt like there was something behind them so I dug. They aren't big pockets on the jacket so there's not much room to hide but I couldn't get a grasp of whatever it was. I was up to my wrist in a pocket that only barely covered my knuckles and then I was up to my forearm in it. Whatever I had was slippery, I think. The college girls over in the line stopped laughing and just watched, horrified.

"Don't worry ladies I'm not playing pocket pool," I said. But what came out was actually, "AAAAIIIAAAEIEEIIEEEEE!"

The thing in my pocket was bigger than my fist and it was warm and it was stuck on something else, but I think I had it.

"HahasomethingcaughtinmythroatIthinkwhatbringsyouo uttonightisitsomebody'sbirthday," I tried. "SCCRREEEEEEEEEEEEE SCREEEEEEEEEE!" I said.

I was elbow deep in the pocket and I had the wet cords that held onto the thing I was grabbing and I was tearing them with my fingernails but they were pretty tough. There was more in there, more things all attached together and moving about but I'd already made my choice. I had it. I was so close.

"Hey it looks like your line is moving you should probably make your way to the door," I was starting to get anxious with all the attention. "GGRRAAAAEEEAAEEAKAARRAAKAAAA."

Fuck the cord things I couldn't break them but I bet I could grab the object and just rip it out. Death grip, angry death grip, and a pull and a tear. I held it above my head in triumph and this time the guttural scream was intentional and I wondered if it came out as a sentence, somehow. The jacket sleeve was coated with something dark and thick. My hand was deep red in the streetlights and the liver it was holding looked, admittedly, a little worse for wear.

The gentle giant had come downstairs at some point during all of this. He looked at me, then up at the liver I was still holding high.

"What's going on, man," he said.

"Nothing. I was just looking for my lighter." I put my liver back in my pocket. It only half fit and its crimson end hung out the side. "Ready to go to the Taproom?"

105
...Iason?

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