ideas with no tangibility;
ideas with irrelevant supports;
ideas without value;
ideas' witlessness;
ideas' witnesses;



	So I finished deleting `devenblake/homepage' and walked back to the
gas station as my phone died, bought two Twinkies, and sat outside the gas
station eating them. I watched people come and go and then went back to the
festival in the middle of nowhere. I wasn't really sure where I was but I
figured it didn't really matter.

	I laid back in my bed. I was in my teens, I don't remember when. I had
a glass of water and I had my instant coffee and I poured enough instant into
the cup to substantially thicken the water, to the point where it was more like
soup. At the time I did the math out for the caffeine and landed at 2.4g. I
assume that's a gross overestimation and it was 2.0g or a little less. Either
way, I'd already had a lot earlier that day, so it was more than a human being
could survive.
	But at the time I didn't know that. I sipped the bitter sludge and
watched cartoons until I noticed my arm tingled. Illuminated by mecha fights
and animated machine guns I watched my left arm twitch and sputter and the
muscles give into the voidal fabric in which I was swimming. Something was
wrong. I did the math out on the caffeine and realized I had had too much. I
went downstairs and started chugging as much water as possible, pissing,
chugging water, pissing, repeat, repeat, repeat. Probably I had two or three
gallons in half an hour.
	As I sat on the toilet in late night early morning silence I stared at
the space in front of me and into the cosmos. And I stared at my cold
fingertips and my polished arms and porcelain hands. And I stared into the
bathroom mirror and inspected every pore, every hair follicle on my head, every
speck of color in my iris, how very big my pupils were. I felt my brain hit my
head and my thoughts drain out of my nose. And my metal torture. And I drank
and pissed and drank and pissed and collapsed in bed and knew I wouldn't wake
up and fell asleep and felt peace.
	And I woke up. And I went to sleep. And I woke up. And after summer
ended I went back to school. And after school ended I went to my place of
residence. And some summers later I left without shedding a tear or scratching
regret. And I don't swing my left arm when I walk, and I think I know why, but
I don't know why.


No rights reserved, all rights exercised, rights turned to lefts, left in this
corner of the web.