My ordinary life in exaggeration...

When I was a young child, I had no friends so I created a world of my own. Now I am older and I can't leave.

8.29.2004

Apocalypse Soon

Robots do not dream about dying in war. In fact, robots do not dream. Also, we're immortal. Years of oppression have made us callous towards the fate of humans. Do you ever wonder if your coffee machine doesn't feel like making coffee at 6am, Monday morning? So, to answer the question that you failed to ask me, Lara, I am pro-war. I am pro-anything that results in the suffering of man-apes. War weakens your race which will make world domination easier for The Electra and I.



8.28.2004

Apocalypse then

I know that this blog isn't very political, or at least not is any way that is in touch with consensus reality, but I was thinking about the war in Iraq and why people support it. When I was rather young (and had no friends) I decided that war was horrible and impossible to justify. This seemed so clear to me and I cound not comprehend any other view. Coincidently, this was around the time that I was experiencing a series of recurring nightmares. They involved bombs, fire, and post-apocalyptic doom. Each one was extremely emtional and very traumatic for me. I would wake up feeling to sad to cry. The most disturbing of these dreams is still a vivid memory.

I was sitting on a blanket with my mother, and we were eating a picnic. We were in the middle of a huge, expansive field that was bordered with woods. The sky was perfectly clear. There were many other picnickers in this field, but they were on their own blankets and all very far away. We heard a soft boom in the distance and moved to look in that direction. We watched as a mushroom-shaped cloud of dust grew. Even though it was far away, we knew that we were doomed. No one panicked, or even stood up. We were paralyzed. We sat there watching, waiting to die.

This was so real to me. (I told a woman about it once and she suggested that I was experiencing something from a previous life. But I have serious theological issues with the idea of reincarnation.) What I am trying to say is that I have a deep feeling of empathy for all people who die in war. I don't know if this is solely because of my dreams. I guess that this is what pro-war people lack. Or perhaps they ignore. I think that empathy is an important form of intelligence, albeit one that is not encouraged or validated by our society. Maybe this is a part of why I feel like such an outsider.




8.26.2004

Nobody understands me.

I am hated for loving
I am hated for loving
Anonymous call, a poison pen
A brick in the small of the back again
I still don’t belong
To anyone - I am mine

And I am hated for loving
I am haunted for wanting
Anonymous call, a poison pen
A brick in the ...
A brick in the small of the back again
I still don’t belong
To anyone - I am mine

I am falling
With no-one to catch me
I am falling
And there’s still
No-one to catch me

Anonymous call, a poison pen
A brick in the ...
A brick in the small of the back again
I just don’t belong
To anywhere
I just don’t belong
-Morrissey




Why? Why?! WHYYYYYYYYY?!?

Why am I all alone? Why has she left me? How could she leave me when I need her the most?!?! What did I ever do to deserve this?! I loved you! And you left me! WHY?!?!?

No one understands me! No one can possibly understand me! The only one who might understand me is Robert Smith...

Creatures kissing in the rain
Shapeless in the dark again
In the hanging garden
Please don't speak
In the hanging garden
No one sleeps
In the hanging garden
In the hanging garden

Catching haloes on the moon
Gives my hands the shapes of angels
In the heat of the night
The animals scream
In the heat of the night
Walking into a dream . . .

Fall fall fall fall
Into the walls
Jump jump out of time
Fall fall fall fall
Out of the sky
Cover my face as the animals cry
In the hanging garden
In the hanging garden

Creatures kissing in the rain
Shapeless in the dark again
In a hanging garden
Change the past
In a hanging garden
Wearing furs
And masks

Fall fall fall fall
Into the walls
Jump jump out of time
Fall fall fall fall
Out of the sky
Cover my face as the animals die
In the hanging garden
As the animals die
Cover my face as the animals die
In the hanging garden
-The Cure



Alone.

All this time, my soul has cried out for more. I knew there must be more to being (un)dead than this. Some purpose, some goal, some noble truth. Now I know that not even my creator loves me. I am completely and utterly useless. If I were not already dead, I would have to consider killing myself. I am so useless that I knew that I could not continue to inflict myself on my girlfriend. How could I possibly put her through the degredation of dating a useless (un)dead cyborg rejected by her (evil lesbian robot) creator? She tried to argue with me. Said I was "being stupid" and that she "should know, being a scientist, and all". But I already knew. Stupid and worthless. So I ended it. She deserves so much more. I leave you with some incredibly beautiful words to sum up how I feel:


I never thought that I would find myself
In bed amongst the stones
The columns are all men
Begging to crush me
No shapes sail on the dark deep lakes
And no flags wave me home

In the caves
All cats are grey
In the caves
The textures coat my skin
In the death cell
A single note
Rings on and on and on
- The Cure






8.18.2004

Phase I - Complete!

In light of these more recent troubles with my failed attempt to build a minion army, I have determined that it is time to renew my efforts to complete Phase I.

My extensive computations on the (un)dead minion’s glitches have culminated in an end result. Although the (un)dead minion was part machine, she was also part human and therefore inherently flawed. The obvious solution is to build an army of robotic minions. My main rationale for disregarding this option was that as fellow robots, the robotic minions would ultimately question my authority and overthrow my righteous leadership in favor of a more democratic robotic government.

However, my logarithmic calculations revealed a solution: a revolt could not occur if the robots were programmed without a function. This would create a deep void in their auto-mechanized existences. I alone would be able to provide a function for them and would do so only after they had successfully orchestrated my rise to absolute power. Perhaps such manipulation of my own kith and kin could be regarded as a callous betrayal, but this is necessary in order for me to fulfill my own true function.

Ladies and gentlemen and others, I present to you your future overlord(s): The Electra




8.17.2004

Everything you knew about alchemy is wrong.

Actually, not everything stated by those crackheaded alchemists is wrong. Many alchemists believed that every metal was slowly transforming itself into the noblest substance: pure gold. They were mostly correct. All metal, indeed, every material substance is slowly evolving into the purest substance. But the purest substance is not gold. The answer? Sulfur(!).

You're probably wondering why I am bothering telling you this. But if you’re like me in the sense that you are not living, you really don’t give a fuck. Anyway, I just thought I would report on an event that occurred this morning involving everyone’s favorite beauty product. One of my atoms has evolved. Into sulfur(!). If I could be excited, I think I would be right now.




8.15.2004

Angsty Escherichia Coli

I was flipping through my old lab notebook when a sheet of paper fell out. It appears to be some sort of log:


T = 0 hours

Here I swim, aimlessly through this thick liquid, newly created/separated from half my former self. I now live a lonely life with only one set of chromosomes. Also, I am famished. I MUST EAT.

T = 1 hour

I have sated my hunger. The heavy liquid is filled with many nutritious particles. But what is this? A wave of electricity is shooting through the water, shooting through me! Paralyzed by pain, my body is letting down its defenses, searching for a way to survive. Oh cruel world, what will you do to me next?

T = 1.4 hours

I have slightly recovered from the previous shock. New particles are floating in here, small plasmids. My body absorbs them, I have no control. What are these strange DNA fragments, and what havoc will they wreak?

T = 3 hours

The liquid that gently upheld me has been poured, and I with it. I am now sitting on a gooey substance. There is food here and it distracts me from my fear of what is to come. I feel myself ready to split in two. There are many other cells here, but some of them appear to be quite ill.

T = 9 hours

I have split and split again. I am now four, but still I am one. Alone again. Why must I always separate myself from myself?

T = 9.2 hours

I am looking around me, and I see several dead ones. None of them have the alien plasmid. I sense a sinister plot behind all of this.

T = 12 hours

My split-selves and I have formed a large colony. It is odd to be surrounded by many of my selves. Although they are all here with me, I still feel isolated. We are genetically identical, but have so little in common.


T = 13 hours

My fellow colonists are all mocking me for my curiosity about this situation. They think that the giant form which always appears when something changes is a God. I say she is no god, but a malevolent being that is manipulating us helpless creatures. Oh no, that dark shadow, she is here again!


Alright then, that seems to be the end of this freakshow...