Archives

I found a bunch of "Blog Scribblings" in a folder on my computer. Reading through them, I think they're more interesting just listing one after the other. Who knows: I may elaborate further. As I do.

Perhaps no one understands. Perhaps no one can understand. How can you communicate to others, when you “just know”? Is it doomed to be an Aesopic fable that I endeavour to pass on?

Flutter, shudder you scuttling finger of hunger: you blundering rudderless stutter of an utterance - you're just a buffer for this aflutter nutter.

Our bodies are slaves to chemicals.

The lamp is empty.

Incandescent cadence.

I’m pissed off that I’ve let myself lose my innocence. I remember a time when I was fearless. Dear Chariot, swing high you piece of shit.

Relegated to the past tense.

Where I saw myself as useless, I now find myself needless.

It's that feeling that you get when walking home. It's all downhill. Soon you’ll rest.

Aim small, miss small.

Making a masterpiece, in as fewer strokes as possible.

Trying to find a handle on the moment.

Mindless Ethan..