An ongoing conversation about the changes occurring in our world as we lead up to the major paradigm shift at the end of the Mayan Calendar; December 21 2012. An attempt to transform our apocalyptic anxieties and materialize ourselves in more harmonic beings.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
"Can you believe the paintings they put in museums? I think art people like history better than they like art. How can the two converge?"
That is a fucking pretentious thing to put on your facebook page dude. I miss you, I hope you are out my way soon. Transporting technology or flying cars are war overdue, fucking NWO mofos.
He scratched his head. If he hadn't built his email filters himself he would have been sure this was just someone pulling a prank, but he was sure no one would have gone to the trouble of circumventing his security just to leave this little message.
He spent 20 minutes going over his system anyway, but it was certain there had been no attempted entries.
His might jumped randomly, and he thought to himself that maybe he sent the message. That would explain some of the missing time, anyway.
So someone slips him a roofie, he gets wild, writes himself a snarky email and passes out. Sound like me, he thought.
But what if there was another Simon? He had always hated anyone else named Simon, and the one time he had the ignomity to serve time in class with another Simon, he spend a lot of time giving the kid nicknames and repeating them loudly throughout the day, to anyone who would listen, until one of them stuck and he no longer had to share him name with a kid now called "Gaz".
But surely Gaz had nothing to do with it, there could be 100 hipsters named Simon around here, he was damned thankful he'd never met one.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that this was a challenge, like the opening of a chess match, something to set the tone, a psychological volley. He felt like a mad scientist had just tagged his garage and slept with his girlfriend.
Simon's email read -
ReplyDeleteThat is a fucking pretentious thing to put on your facebook page dude. I miss you, I hope you are out my way soon. Transporting technology or flying cars are war overdue, fucking NWO mofos.
hater of technology suppression,
Simon
He scratched his head. If he hadn't built his email filters himself he would have been sure this was just someone pulling a prank, but he was sure no one would have gone to the trouble of circumventing his security just to leave this little message.
ReplyDeleteHe spent 20 minutes going over his system anyway, but it was certain there had been no attempted entries.
His might jumped randomly, and he thought to himself that maybe he sent the message. That would explain some of the missing time, anyway.
So someone slips him a roofie, he gets wild, writes himself a snarky email and passes out. Sound like me, he thought.
But what if there was another Simon? He had always hated anyone else named Simon, and the one time he had the ignomity to serve time in class with another Simon, he spend a lot of time giving the kid nicknames and repeating them loudly throughout the day, to anyone who would listen, until one of them stuck and he no longer had to share him name with a kid now called "Gaz".
But surely Gaz had nothing to do with it, there could be 100 hipsters named Simon around here, he was damned thankful he'd never met one.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that this was a challenge, like the opening of a chess match, something to set the tone, a psychological volley. He felt like a mad scientist had just tagged his garage and slept with his girlfriend.