Greetings, friends. It is 3:15 p.m., and at this point I have been awake for 50+ hours. As such, my mind is somewhat relaxed, to say the least. I therefore feel like writing a stream of consciousness, and, as it is likely to be quite Mundane and Pointless, I shall place it here for your viewing enjoyment. (While I have it from a good source that posting on too little sleep is inadvisable, I figure this can’t hurt anyone, so why not.) If it turns out to be boring, you can always pop over to the thread I started a few hours ago where you get to tell me my hair looks stupid. Lots of good fun in that thread. Anyhow, stream of consciousness time. I’m not going to think about or edit anything I type from here on out, so it probably won’t make any sense. GO!
In a world where everything is nothing, there is always uncertainty as to which is your own ginger ale. Alas, these are the consequences of the times; mankind, I fear, draws nearer to his downfall, yet still, we look on in wonderment. What insights our own actions give into the workings of our souls. My thoughts reside within my head, yet out they flow, from my fingers to the keyboard, and from there, to you. We’re in this together, all of us, each and every one, and if we can but overcome our differences, these things shall come to pass. For which of us can truly be said to be alive, if all the world is nothing but a chemical reaction? Statements of fact are needless; irrelevant; what is, is, and what is not, shall never be; what merit, then, in discussing it? And if, within this chaos, there lies some grain of subtle truth, pray let us haste to find it, that we may better ourselves in the seeking. The time has come, and now is gone, but now it comes again; the cycle continues endlessly, humanity and life sitting as pawns within its grasp. Complacency inhibits abilities heretofore untouched within ourselves; left to rot inside our shells, they shall not see the light of day within our lifetimes. We perceive the world with but five senses, and note at most five qualities of that which we observe; what then lies beneath the surface of the commonplace, invisible, untouchable, tasteless, scentless, and silent? I speak, but no one listens, save myself; my speech falls on deaf ears, save for my own; I cry, but no one weeps except my lonesome; I die, for why continue all alone? Universal generalities mimic nothing more than local specificities magnified thousandfold; exceptions fade from view in wider perspective, and this alone is without exception. That which lies within the grasp of our own minds can hold no greater truth than that which we attribute to ourselves; in believing that our thinking is imperfect, we place no value on our thoughts produced. In memories, minutes outlast years, and instants are eternal.
Whee! That was fun. Apparently my subconscious is a pretentious ass that likes vague and irrelevant pseudo-philosophies. That’s kinda cool. So, anybody else care to post a stream of consciousness? Trust me, they’re extremely enjoyable to write.