rice seer these heat rats mats cheer tart root nice tame tarn crease

Rice is our only resource. The Seer says it's all we need, and it will save us all. These heat rats breed mercilessly, and have begun to spill out from the mats they hide under during the day. We try to cheer each other up with silly performances of the prophecy of the eradication of the heat rats. One legend tells of a tart root growing under the mountain that can lure and poison the vicious rat horde, but since it contradicts the Seer's prophecy, to speak of it is formally forbidden and publicly feared. My oldest brother shares a legend with me that our grandfather shared with him many years ago. Once upon a time, these heat rats were nice and tame. We got along harmoniously with them. We gave them shelter and they gave us warmth. As our numbers grew, we produced more rice and took up more space. We pushed them out, and instead of sharing our rice with them, we burned it to replace the heat they had given us. The more we despised the rats, the more they crowded around us and multiplied, stealing our rice and overheating our homes. Only if we accept and respect them again will our lives become peaceful. The tension seems unbreakable. I can't imagine anyone in this land reconsidering our relationship with the heat rats. I feel more at peace with them than with my own people. I help them whenever I see them trying to get inside. I hide away from people. Our rice supplies are getting desperately low. To everyone's surprise, the Seer decrees that the tart root of the mountain must be found. The strongest farmers and staunchest enemies of the heat rats set out for the unexplored tarn at the center of the mountain. After many days of finding nothing, a hungry man, who lost his home and whole family to the heat rat invasion, dives to the bottom of the tarn and finds a shiny root stuck in a dark rocky crease. He knows that's what they've been looking for and pulls and pulls harder until he is out of breath. The root comes loose and floats to the top, and he drowns (he will not be missed). The entire land celebrates the tart root. Soon after placing it at the edge of town, we notice fewer heat rats, lower temperatures, less rice missing. Everyone calms down. The rats are all gone, and people seem happy. The tart root seems to slow time. The new rice crop seems to be growing slowly. In fact it isn't growing at all. The harvest yields less then ever before. People are even hungrier than at the height of the heat rat invasion. Winter is bitterly brutal. No rice to burn. No rats to keep us warm. The root is shining brightly, simply laying on an altar. It seems to need nothing to thrive. Nothing is what it gave us. We hate the tart root. Only last hope is to burn it. Everyone gathers at the altar. The Seer sets it alight. It is brighter than the sun, louder than a hurricane, and smells worse than anything. Those of us who were most excited originally by the tart root's power faint from the sensory overload. The rest us rat-lovers wait as the light, noise, and smell fade. All that's left is a black seedy ooze burning its way deep into the dirt. Through the new darkness, on a distant mountain, we see a soft orange glow flicker with life. In an instant, I know that it's the heat rats. We gather the fainted ones and journey onward to reunite with our old warm friends.

Done Day

I will turn you off.
If I go tomorrow, I dare you to go with me.
If you write a song, I won't hear it unless you sing it too.

Bayou

Place. People. Light. Objects. Intentions. I say to another male, "Did you hear about the massacre in Syria." He mumbles, doesn't answer, and seems a little annoyed, and I am annoyed that he would think Oh yeah, more religious wackos killing each other, instead of thinking that it's horrible. Who is this guy? I wanted to say "Christian massacre" (that is Massacre of Christians)  to be correct, but I didn't want to seem biased. The religion doesn't matter when concluding that killing is wrong. I don't know if they were killed for being Christian. I guess if they were the same religion as the killers it would have been different. Everything wrong. There is a woman who reminds me of Milana Vayntrub, other people, I think blonde, and pumpkin puree. She wants to date? I don't know. Gotta poop, last post went roughly, and it's on maybe something. No one cares, that's amazing. I can't describe and I don't remember. It didn't really happen. Next year in Jerusalem... bye you

an ocean aboard a microbe planetbj

ffrewreot

Ello, mi chiggen. Everything is spanish for something else. I am spanish for the holidase. Quite a restitution, respiration, rest on the Pootin, eated fulluv canteen poutine, poultice made of hedgehog fat and baked backside. Millet making bacon for breakfast, cuz I slept even until late today then yesterday goodbye

December Fourth

1. Shopping for Scissors

2. Punctual Tropical

3. A Butterfly Flies Faster Than I Drive

4.

Life Evaluation

It's been too long since I considered what I have done and what I am doing. I was driving to work and thought about the last time I had been in the moment. I thought it's been 12 years, when I was in 4th grade. Then I thought maybe a few times in high school. I was almost done with high school 6 years ago. That's a long time. I need to slow down time. I have made a lot of mistakes. I have watched porn and masturbated each of the past three days. I worked at 5 today/yesterday. I saw a kid at 1st and William Cannon. He crossed the street. I worried about a car hitting him. I wanted him to stay on the sidewalk. I wondered why I felt that. He has value. He can do good things. He will be needed. I also think I just care about keeping him alive. He just needs to be alive. It's almost all gone if he dies. His atoms will be recycled just like while he's alive. If one kid dies, it's very sad. If a few die, it's crazy and horrible. If a bunch die, then it's hard to believe and almost relieving in way, like a burden lifted, like they keep each other company, like the beginning of a charitable foundation. How am I going to be better? Life is rushing past.

I watched Corrado play The Stanley Parable. How can I be all these things and not other things? Pat and I played disc golf at Circle C yesterday. Tim went to Huntsville Friday and he's coming back tomorrow/today. I think I want to call Kit and ask if he wants to bike. This laptop is so small. Music is so big. I was little toooo. 4 changes. OK, this is going. Pat and I ate steaks and watched The Ice Storm. I forgot about the last big steak. It's gross now. I ate two weird s'mores tonight. I watched Frasier and Kids in the Hall. I have some gross infection on the left corner of my mouth. I popped a pimple and picked it, kept picking it. I'm growing a beard. It's been a while since I saw Aaron. I gotta brush my teeth. I am very lazy, watching youtube for hours. I want to do some ASMR. I looked at middle school girl's chest. I worked with Eric tonight. It was mellow, simple. I liked thinking about how little work I was doing. I am excited to see Tim. I don't want to work for 8 hours. I already look forward to my lunch break. I regret always eating peanut butter sandwiches. Sometimes they taste very good. I ate a salad with coconut oil. The Food Blog is dead. Nothing is maybe something anymore. I ate turkey ham mozzarella sandwiches. Trampled while shopping is a sucky death.

It is a Diamond Day. It is a Prism of Reflection. I am compressed and captured, encapsulated indefinitely.

Pat is somewhere. Bridgett's I guess. I wanted to look at Jane Ritter, or whats-her-name. I am going 2 sleep.