here is your soundtrack: http://soundcloud.com/8dx

many years ago i joined a website and when i joined that website i began to discover the meaning of spouting indecipherable gibberish into a non-coalescing schematic to explain the delusions of grandeur that allowed me to believe each new effort was indeed necessary in order to extricate some sort of reciprocal meaning from the nociceptive pressure crushing down on every little fibre of being tearing slowly towards something new that will not make dawn come any quicker than a bottle of orange julius and fatigued camo slacks.

64digits you were my friend for a long time.

64digits you were my enemy for a long time.

64digits you were my sanity for a long time.

but then i had to move on from my own self for seconds minutes hours months decades millenia mental capacity is diminished by each passing moment even further until the dreams of playing on xbox live all day and neglecting all responsibilities were nothing but a pleasant memory of the past and not to forget the no scopes oh god the no scopes they would never leave it alone because showmanship goes above ability when the ability is even non-existent but in non-existence there still is the existence of the idea therefrom the ideological constant arrises, that in the lack of substance, sentience, sapience, thus we conjure the intelligent from the mundane. all a few chemicals and electrical signals.

beep beep, i am a circuit. what happens if you misdirect the energy?

where will the focus be? there already is no focus. what the fun means

is that being bored is only a state of mind, a state of mind that i am

i am the state of mind.

i think therefore i am therefor my thoughts are that i am therefor my thoughts are that which has wrought me into the existence that i currently possess therefor i think therefor i become and in becoming the consciousness expands to grasp some deeper self awareness until the inevitable falling comes to the realization that one cannot be more aware of their own self than totally aware of every passing aspect that would normally be in the frame of existence that one calls home.

i am the ideological constant that you hold me up to; you are the ideological constant that you hold yourself up to; we are all symbols, carrying no further meaning in our physical representation other than that which can easily externally escape. the armies are marching; the bombs are set off, the gunpowder is struck, the clips have been emptied, the room has been cleared, the road has been blockaded, the end is here but maybe its just the end of the beginning and the beginning of the denouement.