Comments Posted By an octopus

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fire is the release of energy. the sun seems firey, but is really something quite different. fires burn and fires die, fires can mean safety or destruction. fires can be tame candles or something uncontrollable. since they can be anything, they seem rather useless as a metaphor. nonetheless, fire means power.

» Posted By an octopus On 12.25.2012 @ 2:00 pm


les actualites. actually translates to as we speak in French. what is actually happening? millions of births and deaths and war and dinnertime and everything else we humans can experience.

» Posted By an octopus On 12.23.2012 @ 3:30 pm


who knows what comes next? no one. no one can predict the future because otherwise causality would be broken. it’s true that time isn’t absolute, but there is no way to know your own future because your time frame is continuous relative to you. actually, i have no idea if this is true or makes any sense, i’m just making stuff up.

» Posted By an octopus On 12.22.2012 @ 10:24 pm


my payment is due. i spend my whole life scrabbling to find the money for it. pulling together nickles and dimes, little coins no one wanted that got left in my tip jar. payments to friends, payments to enemies. i owe everything. i will never be self-sufficient. arguments over money are the most heated.

» Posted By an octopus On 12.16.2012 @ 5:17 pm


stirrings in the world are finally coming to this town. it takes a long time for change to wind its way down the tangled paths that lead here. isolation keeps us safe, but life here is stagnant.

» Posted By an octopus On 12.15.2012 @ 7:03 pm


living things. self-replicating, evolving webs of carbon. one cannot help but ask the cliched question: are we alone? i cannot even begin to fathom the possible dishes that could be cooked up with the elements of creation in the stewpot of evolution.

» Posted By an octopus On 12.14.2012 @ 5:15 pm


i was presented, like a dog at a dog show. my mother may as well have been dragging me by a leash, affixed around the neck of my dress. i wore that involuntarily too, like a collar. this facade was too much. i was simply a pet.

» Posted By an octopus On 12.10.2012 @ 9:06 pm


methods are the most important thing in experiments. your experimental method must be carefully determined. sadly, life can not always be set up ideally, even if you use the best methods. there are simply too many variables.

» Posted By an octopus On 12.09.2012 @ 10:47 pm


people are not objects. the object of the game is to be an object. nobody is objective. even the most objective person to exist, a judge, is not perfectly objective.

» Posted By an octopus On 12.02.2012 @ 2:44 pm


i like to cook. flavours are like a puzzle, but not a logic puzzle, an art puzzle. you must know the nuances of every flavour and have the imagination to feel the ghosts of what a combination would taste like on your tongue. i’m still at the stage of sticking with recipes.

» Posted By an octopus On 12.02.2012 @ 1:17 am


i am a local now. i know the smell of the air as the ferry gets in. i can pick out the tourists just by the time of day they are travelling, or the turn-off they take at the bottom of the bypass. i know the names of the neighbourhoods. i can navigate the backroads. nevertheless, i am still an outsider.

» Posted By an octopus On 11.26.2012 @ 10:21 pm


i received the letter weeks later. i had been checking my mailbox almost neurotically, day after day. sadly, what the little envelope held was nowhere near as exciting as what i had been hoping for. still, just the thought of her holding it made my wait almost worthwhile.

» Posted By an octopus On 11.20.2012 @ 8:17 pm


don’t mention his name, whatever you do. please, it’s really a kindness. those two syllables will send me down a confusing torrent of emotions i don’t feel like dealing with right now. his name is everywhere, too. i can’t avoid it. that’s the problem with small towns. that’s the problem with mutual friends.

» Posted By an octopus On 11.18.2012 @ 8:07 pm


thoughts are dragging me down. Everything is over analyzed. Thoughts make you unhappy. Thoughts question, thoughts nag, thoughts make everything heavier than it should be. Thoughts are what have made the human species great but malcontent. Thoughts cause unrest. To placate the masses, make the media thoughtless.

» Posted By an octopus On 11.17.2012 @ 3:34 pm


i am an employee. i will be an employee my whole life. 9 to 5. 8.5 hour shifts. half hour unpaid break. our lives are divided into segments, paid and unpaid. our passions fall second to our duties, something that has been going on for eons. a tiger is the employee of himself, his job, to hunt for food. humans are no better, the only difference is they can dream of a different sort of life.

» Posted By an octopus On 11.15.2012 @ 6:38 pm


Radio waves and sound waves, both -ar, like a spanish verb. Sonoy. Not as fast as the speed of electricity.

» Posted By an octopus On 07.17.2012 @ 9:28 pm


anti-intellectualism chokes society. because, whether you like it or not, we are all primitive. it is in my opinion that we can move forward in a much better fashion after we grasp this. our ancestors came from the trees and now we pillage and burn our ancestral homes. lobby groups cannot sway the truth.

» Posted By an octopus On 05.10.2012 @ 9:53 pm


tastes like failure. like the mundane, the metallic tang of the spoon i sit on is my most interesting flavour. no wonder i remain a side dish.

» Posted By an octopus On 05.07.2012 @ 8:57 pm


gladiators fight lions. helmets made of bronze, outdated, outmoded. part of a gory tradition of the roots of civilization. human nature is perhaps expressed well forcing others to fight to the death.

» Posted By an octopus On 04.25.2012 @ 9:47 pm


we read, not out of the sheer pleasure of it, but because our marks depended on it. what an excuse to read, to thumb the pages with a mild interest. it is a way to read, but not the best way to read. the best way is with thrill, anticipation, turning the pages a mile a minute, enthralled by the knowledge and thoughts contained in the small object you hold in your hand.

» Posted By an octopus On 03.27.2012 @ 8:59 pm


eggs and toast and bacon. don’t fry bacon in butter, it just ends up drowning and you have to pour the grease off somewhere. no one wants all that grease. it just makes dark streaks down the snow, pouring down somewhere unseen, probably to come out once again tainting a meltwater stream. such a price to pay for perogies.

» Posted By an octopus On 03.08.2012 @ 9:32 pm


the generator stood on the island, high over everything else. Its base was shrouded in dry moss, hidden amongst the little bushes. It was red, and rusted. Shells stood on the shores of the tiny scrap of land. Cables ran through the sea, carrying a surprising amount of power to the nearby cabin.

» Posted By an octopus On 02.28.2012 @ 6:32 pm


the cheshire cat’s grin hung in the sky, lingering long after I felt it fall from my face. teeth glinted in the moonlight, a brutal reminder of the tumultuous evening I had been having not long before, all set aside now.

» Posted By an octopus On 02.27.2012 @ 8:47 pm


the oil was thick, and a weird, translucent orange colour. it certainly didn’t look appetizing. I poured it into the grimy pot with some kernels. A mechanical arm spun, making it even out to be cooked. I added the powder. It always amazed me, the smell of that. The actual popcorn tasted mediocre, but that weird artificial powder made it smell like the most mouthwatering thing you have ever been near. Mind control.

» Posted By an octopus On 02.26.2012 @ 9:21 pm


Loss and gain. Cycling continously, one struggling to win over the other. Such is life. Ever anxious that the next loss will not be followed by a greaterthanorequalto gain, but will be the start of the end.

» Posted By an octopus On 02.23.2012 @ 8:55 pm


Driftwood shelters hide me from the sun. The beach is white hot, the hand-made shack provides some respite. It is noon. The sun is right overhead. The waves crash, salty and thundering. The breeze is non-existant. I bake in my paradise. The rough wood is uniform, bleached by sun and surf.

» Posted By an octopus On 02.19.2012 @ 8:36 am


1500m. That was all. Shoes in front of me, all I can see, I remind myself to look up. My shoes don’t have spikes, I’m worried I might slip. It is raining. I am sprinting now, I can’t see past all the rain in my eyes, but I know the curve of the track like the back of my hand.

» Posted By an octopus On 02.17.2012 @ 9:40 pm


Worker colony. Ferrying comestibles back and forth. in rows, two by two, one by one. Always working, crawling, feeding, scuttling. complexity and organization is found in these simply efficient creatures.

» Posted By an octopus On 02.16.2012 @ 9:18 pm


He flirted with destiny. The prospects were many, and varied. Only observing could force one upon him. For the instant, they all stretched out before him, taunting him. Coy possibilities.

» Posted By an octopus On 02.15.2012 @ 8:16 pm


The musty board game was hidden under an old box with a grinning man in a top hat. I pulled it out, trying not to inhale the dust. “Let’s play Clue!”

Colonel Mustard advances. I am accused by a man brandishing a lead pipe himself.

» Posted By an octopus On 02.14.2012 @ 9:56 pm

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