The Dream Harvesters

Imaginary Places #2

There is an island in the Atlantic named Quantos with an interesting history; it was home to a civilization known as the Dream Harvesters. They were known for their particularly fantastic beliefs, which formed the basis of their society. For one, they believed that all the events in human history could be traced back to a single, initial event, an idea that foreshadowed The Big Bang. However their most well known belief was that the dream world and the waking world were mirror images of one another. They believed that events in dreams would lead to the opposite occurring in the real world, and that people would encounter the opposite of whatever happened during the day in their dreams. This belief eventually gave rise to an industry that gave them their name, and also destroyed them.


The early period of their history is filled with tales of Oracles interpreting dreams to foretell what would occur during the day. Oracles were required because although at times the relationship between dreams and the world was quite literal (a death in a dream predicting a birth during the day) it was more often interpreted symbolically. So, for example, dreaming of death might symbolize an end that would then predict a new beginning in the world (1).

Dream interpretation was complicated by the fact that every facet of a dream had to be inverted before being applied to the real world (2). For instance, spatial relations–dreaming about a death in one’s house meant someone would be born overseas. On the other hand dreaming of a birth in a distant land gave people cause to worry. Oracles had to quantify and invert every element of a dream–its emotional tone, its abstractness, its time period–and thus it was a difficult task that required years of study (3).


The island went through what could be called an existential crisis when an idea known as the Infinite Mirror Theory came to light. It made the observation that, according to their beliefs, an event occurring in a dream would cause an event the next day, however this event during the day would then also cause an event the following night, leading to an event the next day and so on. This idea was terrifying to the people of Quantos–a notion of determinism resting on their foundational belief. The entire culture at the time centered on using dreams to foretell, and then possibly alter, the future. The idea that this was impossible was devastating.

The Infinite Mirror Theory lost some of its power when an individual pointed out what has come to be known as the Multiple Threads Rebuttal. The people of the island believed that each day/night contained a multitude of events that then caused a multitude of events the next night/day. However, they also believed that the universe began from a single event. Thus, the question went, if the multiple events in every dream were caused the multiple events of the day before, and those events were caused by the multiple events in the dream before that, how could these threads of events be traced back to a single event? Either the Infinite Mirror Theory was wrong or the universe did not begin with a single event (4). Notice that this did not necessarily disprove the Infinite Mirror Theory, but finding any reason to doubt it was comforting to the people of the island, and it was soon forgotten. Discussions of infinite loops were relegated to  philosophers, and the general public went on with their lives ignoring what was the natural extension of their belief about dreams.


There were two precursors that lead to the practice of dream harvesting. The first was a general disdain for determinism, stemming from the crisis of faith that the island had just undergone. The second was a discovery that events in the environment of a dreamer could influence the content of their dreams–someone smelling food while asleep would dream about food, for instance (5). The king of Quantos wondered if it was possible to use this to alter dreams as a way of altering what occurred during the day.

And so elaborate dream houses were built, containing rows and rows of beds; volunteer dreamers were continually fed opiates to keep them in prolonged states of sleep. While sleeping, people known as Dream Harvesters used sounds, smells and movements to try and induce dreams of war, famine and death in the dreamers, to then create the opposite in the real world.

The descriptions of the dream houses are fantastic. Enormous halls lined with beds, with Harvesters running in all directions carrying all manner of equipment, from incense to bells to animals. Massive shelves contained every object imaginable, like the storeroom of a giant museum. There are stories of large-scale reenactments of war, of harvesters concocting mixtures to create the smell of death and decay, of dreamers being soaked to create dreams of floods; dreaming had become a controlled industry.

Oracles no longer used their knowledge to interpret dreams but to script them. They developed carefully crafted dreams that would lead to the desired outcomes in the real world. We hear of them poring over intricately detailed mirror diagrams and figures, charting out every aspect of the dreams that the Harvesters would then create.

At first the island enjoyed a period of prosperity. There were no wars and crops grew at incredible rates; the king was lauded for creating the dream houses. Then, however, things took a turn for the worse. Droughts were followed by a horrible plague on the island. The king, and the citizens in general, believed that more resources needed to be poured into the dream houses–more dreamers, Harvesters and equipment. At one point we are told that a quarter of the population was kept in a dream state, while most of the waking population worked towards maintaining the elaborate performances put on by the Harvesters. Not surprisingly with this many people devoted to the industry of dreams, the island’s agriculture and infrastructure collapsed.

Eventually the island became a mess of starving, sick and dying people, supporting a workforce of incapacitated dreamers. Within five years of beginning the dream houses, most of the population was dead. Some managed to escape to neighboring islands; others tried to rebuild their once thriving cities, but it was too late. Quantos had become the nightmare it was supposed to have dreamt of.

During this downfall, many theories arose to explain why the dream houses were not working and how to fix them (6). One was that dreams had to take place on the opposite side of the world to impact Quantos; others proposed that the geography of the island needed to be reversed in dreams. There were other more dizzying ideas, for instance that the definition of ‘reverse’ also had to be reversed when charting relationship between dreams and the real world. Unfortunately the validity of the basic idea that the dream houses rested on–that events in dreams engendered their opposite during the day–was never questioned. The people were stuck inside of that idea and performed endless mental acrobatics to try and make it work. In reality what they needed was to do away with the paradigm altogether, but they were too far into their maze of mirrors to realize it. A quote from the very end of the island’s civilization demonstrates that even then they did not question it: “oh what splendid dreams the rows of dreamers must be having, of an island filled with pleasures and fruits and gems, while in reality Quantos burns.”



1 – The writings from who could be called the theologians of Quantos are quite interesting, debating the exact relationship between an event and its opposite. For instance, they questioned whether any event could truly have an objective opposite. They also asked vertiginous questions such as whether instead of an event being situated at the opposite end of its spectrum, when going from the dream to the waking world, it would instead be situated at the opposite end of the opposite spectrum.

2 – Interestingly, their language had dozens of subtly different words for the concept of reflection.

3 – Thus dream interpretation became a process of dividing the dream into its smallest components, quantifying those components in terms of multiple dimensions of meaning, and then inverting them. Further complicating matters was the fact that the manner in which these various components interacted with one another was also inverted. For instance, if the relationship between the opposite of two events implied one thing, it now implied the opposite.

Some argued that this approach lead to futility–infinitely dividing a dream into smaller and smaller elements was a process that would never truly end. Thus there were those who proposed simply interpreting the overall gestalt of a dream. These people were branded as heretics by the Oracles and exiled from Quantos. Many historians believe that the Oracles wished to keep dream interpretation an arcane science so that only they were able to do it. Oracles were well respected and held a great deal of power in society, and perhaps this was a way of ensuring it stayed that way.

4 – There were those who believed that both could be true. They believed that while the day contained nearly an infinite number of events, because dreams were the opposite of waking life, they contained a single event–a single event at night that then created a multitude of opposite events during the day. Thus the single event creating the universe occurred within a dream, allowing the events of the world to be traced back continually from dream to day to dream.

5 – The question of why smelling food wouldn’t cause someone to dream of the opposite of food didn’t emerge until much later. It is emblematic of the history of Quantos that simple questions such as these were ignored in favour of obsessively poring over minute details. Perhaps this allowed them to ignore fundamental challenges to their idea of the relationship between dreams and the waking world.

6 – One of note was that the dream houses were in fact operating in reverse, and that they should have been enacting plays of peacemaking and road building, and that these would have engendered dreams of war and destruction. Ironically, taken to a large scale, this may have saved Quantos by leading to the sorts of actions that a society requires, albeit for the purpose of engendering inverse dreams.



The voices began calling me at night. Now it seems impossible that there was ever a time without them, so perhaps I should say that I remembered them one night. At first I thought they were a dream, but I heard them the next night and the night after that. By that point I could no longer sleep, so there was no question of their being a dream. I searched everywhere for their source: a radio, a loud neighbour–for a time it helped to think there was a reasonable explanation.

What did they sound like? Like a memory. Like a voice from far off just before you fall asleep that jolts you awake. They were louder when I faced south. I tried to ignore this.

After the third night I heard them during the day as well. Somehow they were easier to ignore when they belonged to that in between, pseudo-world of night. Once I began to hear them during the day they truly caused me distress. I tried drowning them out with music and loud conversation. This worked for a time, but all the while I knew that the voices were still there, and that as soon as the sounds died down I would hear them again. I once made the mistake of telling a friend. ‘Crazy’, ‘insane’, ‘weirdo’–he didn’t understand.

What did they want? They wanted me. I tried to reason with them and tell them that I couldn’t come, that I had a life, to bother someone else. They didn’t understand reason.

At night I tried to sleep by putting cotton balls in my ears and leaving the television on. But they were louder at night, and I could hear them, far away, no matter what I did. I began to walk the town aimlessly instead of lying awake.

Where were they coming from? Our town is bordered to the south by a forest. It terrified me and I hadn’t been inside since I was young.

Every moment was filled with unrest, everything I did felt like a distraction. Nothing satisfied me, nothing was fulfilling. Every moment was a moment spent ignoring the fact that voices were calling me and that I knew they would never stop.

One night, I awoke from my dazed wandering to realize that I had come to the edge of the forest. It was dark, unknown, full. I had always known it would end here. The voices were incredibly loud now and perfectly clear.

Finally, thankfully, peacefully, I went in.

Night Time #1

The magician is in the tower about the village.  His black silhouette moves against the dark blue sky, not in time with this world–like a projector being run too slowly.  His hands trace arcane figures in the air and light bursts from them.  Children gather beneath the tower and watch, mouths agape.  Parents stand behind them with a knowing smile on their faces.  They see the path before their children, the day in the distance when they will know these are the parlour tricks of an eccentric, when they will forget magic.  The children see the path before their parents, the day in the distance when they will remember it.


An old city.  Or the dream of an old city.  Stone roads and buildings repeating themselves in all directions.  Illuminated by the full moon everything is bathed in silver–bright though without colour.  Stark against the starlit sky, it feels as though the city is floating in outer space.  In a recess three men wearing cloaks huddle around a candle.  One by one they hold their fingers to the flame, burning their callouses off.  They are the city’s musicians–guitarists–scoring this endless night in this endless city.  You ask them why they are doing what they are doing.  “So it hurts again” they say.


I see two buses moving towards eachother along a route, a long straight road through a residential neighborhood.  Night.  Foggy.  Like being underwater.  The drivers can only see as far as their headlights allow them.  I see a line through blackness, two dots traveling along it, bringing the world around them into existence.  A lonely night.  The people in the houses are asleep, their pets are asleep, their refrigerators hum.  The buses drive on.  Suddenly they see life ahead, light.  The other bus.  They pass.  For a moment instead of two small worlds a single large one comes to be.  They nod and drive on, comforted, continuing to bring darkness to light.


In the city of Aastyn there are two temples.

Upon entering the first, a visitor’s eyes are immediately drawn downwards.  There he or she finds a stone floor made almost perfectly smooth by centuries of footsteps.  If the visitor were to look closer, they would notice names and dates written on the stones–the names of the people buried underneath.  The worn names are made doubly hard to read by the absence of light, save for a few candles.  The temple has irregular earthen walls, and is filled with greenery and dampness.  One feels the presence of life all around them, pressing on them–palpable, visceral life.  The bodies lying beneath the floor do not detract from this presence, but rather add to it.

Upon entering the second, a visitor’s eyes are immediately drawn upwards.  Immense columns reach toward a ceiling so remote that it can’t be seen clearly.  The temple is empty–as if the vast open space were decoration enough.  It is illuminated by brilliant sunlight, shining in through crystal windows.  One is overcome with a feeling of wonder.  It is as though the makers of this temple settled for conveying the awe they felt in the presence of some higher truth, because that truth would be impossible to convey directly.

Every visitor prefers one temple to the other.  Every visitor scoffs at the banality of one and praises the correctness of the other.

What visitors don’t see lies hundreds of feet below them: a tunnel connecting the two temples.  It was filled in centuries ago and the entrances have long been forgotten.  But when the temples were still new and in use, worshippers would never visit one without also visiting the other.

The Cabin

It began two weeks ago in a field opposite my home.  The field has a few trees, wonderful green grass and gentle sloping hills.  I cross it everyday.

Then it appeared.

At first it was a black square where there had been only grass for as long as I could remember.  Its edges were long enough for two men to lie along, flat and framing an empty patch of earth.  I didn’t pay it much attention, but I kept my distance.

The next day it had grown and was one foot off of the ground–two the next.  I waited, far away, until it got dark the second day to see the builder.  No one came.  It was three feet off of the ground when it was light.

Each morning as I awoke and looked out at the field I could see it.  Sinister and perverse.  Ominous and somehow sentient–aware that it was out of place and not bothered.  I realized that it was becoming a cabin.

My path home got closer and closer to it each day until, a week after it had first appeared, I found myself next to it.  Its walls were dark, but not suggestive of an emptiness like the sky; it was closer to charcoal–dirty and cold.  An unholy blend of ancient coal-blackened machinery smelling of archaic otherworldliness, and primal savage rock that had once been buried under the Earth.  It was horrifying.

I went to see it on the way home each day after that, staying longer every time.  A few days ago its windows began to glow with a fire from the inside, but it wasn’t warm.  The sickening walls made the fire seem evil–not the giver of life but the destroyer.

It was finished yesterday, I know because there were no changes this morning.  I’m going inside tonight.  I don’t think I will be back for some time.

The Forests (Separated)

I figured I would put this up again but with the stories separated. I did play around with different colours but it was hard to get a combination that was easy to read. So here it is with them separated. Please give the original one a shot first though!

I unfortunately found myself lost in the woods, walking along a path made many years ago. The sun had long since set and a small moon, offering little light, had taken its place. What light it did provide was filtered by a mass of branches, leaves and trunks. Shadows swirled around me, taking forms for a moment before receding back into harmlessness. I pressed on. Ahead the road split in two and neither path seemed more hospitable than the other, I chose the right. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance and it seemed to approve of my decision.

I walked for some time, only having the sound of my own footsteps to keep me company. The forest seemed to relax its stranglehold on the night sky, occasionally even allowing a few stars to peak through its clutches. I walked on. After some eventless minutes or perhaps even hours, the dread that had hung over me subsided. In time it passed altogether. I began to notice how pleasant the night air and the sounds of the forest were. Leaves rustling in the wind seemed to provide an ever-present hum. It was as though the forest was meditating on some whispered mantra; it exuded a calmness that I could feel soaking into my being. I reflected on the fact that my footsteps were blending with the other things I heard and becoming part of the forest’s sounds. I felt a oneness with nature that I’d often heard about but never experienced. Somehow being lost in nature served to dissolve the connections I had to the world outside of it. That world began to seem like a profane mockery of the existence all around me. I was no longer lost in enemy territory; I was in a being that had given birth to me. Stopping and standing still, I closed my eyes and tilted my head towards the sky. The forest’s “om” continued. On top of it came a symphony of sounds: wings fluttering behind me, a small animal chirping, a twig snapping to my left… all part of the sphere that I now felt at one with. I imagined my feet reaching deep into the Earth, and myself springing up from the same source that had produced the trees and the animals. I was no different than them, but rather the same spirit clothed in a different costume. After some time I continued along the path.

With my mind lost in the welcoming eternity surrounding me, it was some time before I noticed a gap in the trees ahead: an exit. Even after I did, it seemed so foreign and out of place that at first I didn’t realize what it was. Slowly it dawned on me and when it did the hazy plateau I’d been standing on seemed to sink sheepishly back into the ground. I stopped walking; my parents had just called me for dinner. It felt like the last few moments of a dream, when waking life seeps in and coldly does away with the fantastic creatures, buildings and scenery. Somehow I knew that what I’d felt in here would be dissolved by the unforgiving reality out there. I stared at the mouth that was about to swallow me whole. Or perhaps it was the reverse and I was about to be released from something. Grudgingly I walked on and as I did, doubt wrapped its warm and cynical hands around me. I started to write off my experience as the product of a tired and panicked mind. The closer I came to the edge of the forest the more ridiculous it all seemed, almost embarrassingly so. Light had been shone into my secret hiding place; the shadow puppets had became worn out socks. I took my last few steps out of the forest and back into the world.

I unfortunately found myself deep in the woods, walking along a path made many years ago. The sun had long since set and a small moon, offering little light, had taken its place. Shadows swirled around me, taking forms for a moment before sinking back into harmlessness. I pressed on. Ahead the road split in two and neither path seemed hospitable, I chose the left. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance and it seemed to disapprove of my decision.

I walked for some time; the forest appeared to grow darker and more sinister. On two occasions I stopped, believing to hear footsteps in the woods, only to be taunted with silence when I did. An echo, I told myself. Whether I traveled for minutes or hours, I couldn’t tell. I hated these woods, and I hated myself for being lost in them. My mind was immersed in thoughts of self-pity and anger when suddenly a shape moved across the road ahead. I froze and felt the blood in my body turn to ice. Squinting into the trees I searched for the shape that I was convinced meant to harm me. Nothing. My whole body buzzed with the anticipation of danger, it mixed with the darkness around me and formed a threat so great that I resigned myself to some grisly and unavoidable death. I stood like that for some time, frozen in place but feeling like everything inside of me was moving very quickly. I decided to go back to the fork, and take the other path.

Walking quickly I went back the way I came, looking over my shoulder every few steps. I expected to see a pair of eyes without sanity or feel breath without warmth at any moment. Stories I’d heard of ghosts and demons came flooding into my mind and took shape in the shadows all around me. I was running now and in a state of frenzy. Looking back then looking ahead, looking back then looking ahead. Everything started to seem the same; the darkness was closing in on me. I realized that I must have missed the fork. I kept going. To move was to remain safe and to stay still was surely to die. Movement ahead. I stopped. Squinted. Nothing. Quick agitated breathing. My own? No, beside me. I looked in horror. Nothing. Footsteps behind me. Spun around. A shape. Pain. The darkness became absolute.

I unfortunately found myself deep in the woods, walking along a path made many years ago. The sun had long since set and a small moon, offering little light, had taken its place. Shadows swirled around me, taking forms for a moment before sinking back into harmlessness. I pressed on. Ahead the road split in two and neither path seemed hospitable, I chose the left. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance and it seemed to disapprove of my decision.

I walked for some time; the forest appeared to grow darker and more sinister. On two occasions I stopped, believing to hear footsteps in the woods, only to be taunted with silence when I did. An echo, I told myself. Whether I traveled for minutes or hours, I couldn’t tell. I hated these woods, and I hated myself for being lost in them. My mind was immersed in thoughts of self-pity and anger when suddenly a shape moved across the road ahead. I froze and felt the blood in my body turn to ice. Squinting into the trees I searched for the shape that I was convinced meant to harm me. Nothing. My whole body buzzed with the anticipation of danger, it mixed with the darkness around me and formed a threat so great that I resigned myself to some grisly and unavoidable death. I stood like that for some time, frozen in place but feeling like everything inside of me was moving very quickly. I decided to continue, mustering every bit of courage I could gather.

Starting off slowly at first, I moved forward. Soon I reached the point in the road that I’d judged the shadow to have crossed. I braced myself. After a few minutes without any harm befalling me I began to relax. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, my muscles eased and I began taking breaths that filled my lungs. A twig snapped in the forest to my right. I took off like a canon shot, running faster than I’d ever run before. The cool air made my eyes water and my throat burn but I kept going. The unknown evil took on every possible form in my mind until I was convinced there was an entire horde behind me, gaining on me. My footsteps and my heartbeat were pounding in my ears, making it impossible to tell how many there actually were. On and on, my legs pushing the road farther and farther behind me with every lunge. I struggled to keep the fear from overwhelming me, beating it back with the exhausting movement.

In the distance I saw a patch of black, lighter than the darkness around me: the end of the forest. Surely this was my mind playing a cruel trick on me, or rather a trick to motivate me. However the patch began to grow as I moved on and I realized that I was actually nearing the edge. From this distant promise of safety I found the strength to keep going. The patch became a tear and then a doorway, I ran through that doorway and back into the world. Fresh air, stars and open space burst into my awareness. I collapsed on a grassy hill a short distance from the exit. Whipping myself around I looked back at the forest and the evil behind me. Nothing. My lungs were on fire and I gulped down air to try and put it out. I lay there panting, staring and waiting. Seconds and then minutes passed without any sign of movement. Relief flooded over me in shades of joy and ecstasy. With a dawning realization I laughed aloud at what had probably been no more than some small animal.

30 Minutes Take Two

giving this another shot. shot of benzedrine i think i was allergic to amoxacilin as a kid but because it tasted like bananas which are strange fruits they become yellow when they are ready to be eaten what a weird colour to indicate eating ready state of fruit which is a word to describe another well move on from there keys onthe keyboard are black like the black keys which are a band that play music a can type out each other album names but i dont want to right now right write wright which one is right ha ha ha ha what a funny soudn to make when things are funny i wonder what advantage that provided out ancestors as a kid but i mean a kid in terms of the human race why a race who is going to win that is a joke ive heard before, that was a little joke voila, praise is due to the plblah blah blah kanye is very tlented but he was a very strange name maybe i should autocorrect this after but i cant think about that now just write whatever comes to mind a waste is a terrible thing to mind. that s interesting teresting in teresting was what i was trying to say pay heydaymaylay clay fray way play ray kay may nay moving ON! rhyming is interesting wht a strange thing it is and what a strange thing it is that we enjoy when things rhyme music rhymes but where did that convention come from. and why is music only sounds and words put together someone decided that at somepoint and it just stuck. doubt s creeping back and i have to forget that and just keep typing. qwerty is what people all these typewriters. its a good thing that the first five keys werent fuckyou thats more than five but i cant count at the moment count dracula is a count he is also on the cover of cereal boxes what a cool thing to be on the cover of. although id rather be on the cover of an album, an album ocver if you will. maybe i will have to correct the spelling. spelling spelling spelling what if i misspelled the word spelling, that is interesting. i like words that sould i mean sound like what they mean. i think that ‘odd’ is one such word. periods and commas… ,,, … ,,, … ,,, comma kind of sounds like what it means but what does it really mean? mountains are green with grass but are mountains actually green, who kows sides of mountains are covered with grass this is true true true ture turing is a test to see if machines possess intelligence is that true? let them try and type non-stop for thirty minutes atnd that will demonstrate intelligence. i havent sworn yet. swearing can mean saying a bad thing and something religious which is interesting i suppose it is because most of the swear words used to be religious. what if they used to be fruits, then swearing would be called producing. well moving on gevetables are a thing i havent talked about yet. i dont like them on sandwiches but i do like them on the side. iceberg lettuce what the fuck is the point in it even existing. but isnt that the real question! wo oh well oh well what the hell does that mean? oh well i should look up where that saying comes from it is a bit strange. i think that this would be better if I spelled better but thats alright its okay, y y y y y is an interesting letter because it waas I mean has three points okay thats just been eight minutes and im fucking exhausted exhaust pipes on cars spill poisoinous gasses into the air so isnt that exhausting. I WANT TO STOP. but i cant because i started and now how would THAT look! i wish I could speak things into existence like God supposedly can. i guess from a certain point of view when you say things they do become existing (horrible way to phrase that no cant worry about that) so when you say things they are created which is cool. can God create a rock that is too heavy for him to lift. how many people have ever said that and felt fucking clever. 152346 by my estimate! why that number? when I look at a number I automatically check if is a multiple of three. weird I suppose. suppose i want to suppose a supposition governor? okay thats alright. why do people spell it OK?? because they are lazy!! spelling OK is NOT what im doing at the moment. I wonder if people that capitalize the letter /I/ when referring to themselves are being cocky? hahaha cocky what a weird work to describe being full of yourself. I wonder if it was a lady or a boy that came up with that definition? you see by saying lady or a boy I tried to avoid sounding sexist, if I had said woman or a man it brings to mind disgusting old convesrvative men (well not slaming conservatives dont worry) but these old people in tutrle necks and mustaches talking about how women should stay in the kitchen and that horse shit. but if I say lady and boy it sounds a bit more innocent, and innocent is what that general wondering was! that is a phrase fromfriends I think that Changler Bing said that! what a stupid name. Friends was a good show! look how much I like it I even took the time to capitalize it! I guess oh wow now I even capitalized the letter I. So I wonder if peopele ever avoid capitalizing the letter I when referring to themselves because they dont like themselves. its interesting that capitalizing the first letter of something shows respect. what is cool is this. fuck the outcome its all about the process, SOMETIMES! it had better be because this outcome wont be very great but this process does feel quite freeing. I wonder why we associate freeing with flying? I suppose thats quite obvious. what a weird sounding word obvious. I like to look at the keys on my keyboard and see which ones have been used the most and are the most worn away. I iuse to use a keyboard cover but I realized that was a bit too Maire Barone ESQUE. marie barone! Everybody Loves Raymond was a good show. the Dad was funny. Guck what inane gibber gabber! Onopatopea is NOT how you spell the word I’m trying to relate to you . Constricting thought into language is like making orange juice, a cup of orange juie out of ten fucking oranges. But at this speed im just struggling to keep the train going. I guess this must be good for something anyway lets move on. saying something lik e”lets move on” sounds pretentious as well. alright radiators and heaters warm the room up like the sun. what is the fascination with the sun? well thats quite ovbious it warms the earth and lets crops grow, which was the most important thing to our ancestors. I dont feel like im properly expressing or s dois doing justice to myself wlike this. Thhis must be what it feels like to struggle to get words out in a foreign language. Language is such an amazing thing. I would like to use other adjectives but it might sound pretentious. letters I think that letters I think that letters I think that letters. I would like to find the linguistic equivalent of chord progressions. That would be very interesting. when I post this on Facebook maybe I shouldn’t post it because people will raise their eyebrows at it. I would hate it if people raised their eyebrows at me! fuck them. glasses are interesting. not the ones that you put on your nose but the ones that you drink out of silly! they are these objects that hold a liquid in a certain position in mid air when otherwise it would just collapse and go everytwere! pretty cool. glassses that go on your nose are prety ineresting as well. I saw a TED talk about an intentor that had had invented glasses makde made with water and that were entirely adjustable and cost something like eight dollars. you should fill them with beer and call them beer Goggles HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA funny man I am well not a man exactly. anyway the number seven looks cool, quite different from the mumber eight which it immediately predecesses. well then i see that I only have ten mintues left. time for some unedited, totally free free association. trees swings bepeople on swings swining red wagons calvin hobbes comics great comics mom dad of calving without names Zits comics seemed like the heirs to the throne but arent very good anymore. political comics, it semms like newspapers just put them in because they feel like they have to nowadays. not that I know jack shit about politics and thus am not the proper person to judge them! politics are aone of those topics that everyone seems to know about and be an expert on. tables with four legs why four legs?? I suppose that makes sense. takles . tables rather. very much liek glasses just holding things in mid air that would other wise collapse. wells of meaing inundated with ogres and elves, prancing about in nutshells of comically cosmic osmosis. well anyway. why do I say that so often fuck fuck fuck. what an amazing ly cathartic word that is, and i am slowing down NO cant slow down must go ahead not MUCH TIME let. left. dunny I mean funny that capitalizing a word makes it read louder that is funny hahahhahaha but not HAHAHAHAHA hahaha. wlol I hate that I sometimes accidentally say lol in real life. but why is that so bad? nothign is bad, there is no way to judge something as being good or bad so its all good! ahhahahahaha exclamation marks look like they should look, they look loud. but obviously that is just hte years of associating the two concepts. i used to collect bangaes. bandages. band aids and bandages what is the difference? is it like kleenexes and tissues? who knows. lists I could have just written a a list but fuck thats been done. hover crafts would be interesting indeed you could HOVER with them what does hover spell backwards revoh wow that is amazing that i could do that on the fly! another word to spell backwards. how about howdy ydwoh hahahahahha that is fun! what about elephant tanhelle oopes fucked that one up. dekcuf tha is good. family gy isnt a great show. i cant beleive that people think its on par with the simpsons. ill make a family guy joke this moment, this instance in fact! all over af ah fuck it i dont know where that was going, i was just going to rewrite a single phrase over and over. but seriously that is the joke, well you know that already. but its weird that the thing itself isnt funny, its just that its being done over and over. I guess the form is funny which I’m all for. contractions, what a cool addition to the english language. but when people try to make them up they get slammed! like saying t’phone well not that but you know what I mean when people try to edit out parts of a word to sound cool. I dwonder if that is how people started saying don’t instead of do not. some fucking cool ass guy started saying don’t and everyone thought he sounded very cool and relaxed and now its normal. moving on periods and commas … ,,, … ,, its lucky that our colons have two dots! how the fell I mean hell would we make all of these emoticons if they had three dots?!?!?!?!? we’d be utterly emotionless on the internet which is all that matters right? question marks also look like questions but again that is ijust the years and years of associating the two. two one xero should really nbe spelled with an x, those xerox fucks were on to something. on the the the the is a pretty overused word! its become a tad too trite if I do say so myself. sayso should be a word. maybe one say it will be! ive always wanted to make up a word. but how to do that, would be hard to communicate the ocnept it attempts to communicate with a out a a word to communicate it in the first place! rrroburos is not how you spell that either. i like words with double letters like letter. double should really have been spelled doubble to have had two letters in it. im going to be almost done in 28 seconds. what if the world ended while I was doing this and I didnt notice because I was so utterly engrossed in trying to communicate this mishmash of words running through my head?

44 (Doing a Project)

(from March 10th, 2010)

80, 02, 40, 02 00, 02, 69, 91, 29, __

Roger barely looked up from his piece of paper in time to avoid walking into the annoyingly well-dressed kid strutting past. The kid looked like he’d just combed his hair back with a hamburger, and was talking on his blackberry. ‘Fuck’ thought Roger as he jumped onto the grass out of the way. “… some old leaf” he heard the kid say annoyingly to whatever annoying friend he was ‘talking’ to. ‘Leaf eh?’ Roger was convinced that there was a mastermind living underground somewhere, choosing random words from the dictionary to turn into slang. ‘I’m not a leaf’ he thought defiantly.

He went back to his piece of paper. ‘Eighty divided by two is forty, but then how do you get from forty to two? And why have two zeros, just so that every number is two digits? Does working this out on the street make me a leaf?’ Roger has just won $500 on a lottery ticket, but couldn’t figure out the skill-testing question. ‘This is hard! I never thought they were actually skill testing. And what kind of skill was this testing anyway?’ He kept working on it as he made his way down the street.

In the distance he saw someone he knew coming down the street, ‘fuck’. ‘I don’t want to take out my earphones. Should I do the polite one earphone out thing. Nah fuck it.’ He reached the person, who mouthed something with a smile, Roger couldn’t hear a word of it. “Good and you?” Roger guessed. The other person nodded, said something else and kept walking. ‘Phew! One day I’m going to get that wrong though. They’ll say something like my pancreas just exploded get help! Good and you?’

Roger had reached his destination, 33 Chestnut Drive, the home of Robert. ‘Robert, Robert, Robert… of all the people to be paired up with for this assignment why Robert.’ He banged in the door and waited for an answer. ‘What a barbaric idea that is. Can you imagine doing that in any other situation? If you’re eating dinner and want someone’s attention you start banging on the table. Or just banging on the wall if you want to call someone into a room’.

“Hi there!” Robert’s mother opened the door with a smile.

“Hey, hi, how are you, ma’am?” Roger fumbled. He hated talking to other people’s parents, he never knew how formal to be. For some reason he imagined that once you have a kid you immediately change into someone who only discusses routes to work and fiber; and your only idea of fun is playing ‘who can find the remote’.

“Robert is in his room, go on up!”

“Thank you, Mrs. ma’am”. Robert… Robert was an odd kid. Not a bad kid, but a kid with one VERY annoying habit. At some point between grades 10 and 11 some person, some EVIL person, had told Robert what a palindrome was. Ever since then Robert tried to turn every fucking sentence he ever spoke into one –
“Hey Roger!” said Robert from the top of the stairs. “Reg, or…yeh?” – only he was shit at it.

‘Does he want me to respond to that? Reg or yeh… what the hell does that mean.’ “Hey Robert, how’s it goin’?” He shook Robert’s hand hoping he wouldn’t say anything else. ‘I guess that sort of made sense. Regular, or… yeah regular. But why was it a question?’ He followed Robert into his bedroom. It was like any typical teenager’s bedroom, full of dirty clothes, plates with half-eaten sandwiches and so on. And it smelled like Jabba the Hutt’s jockstrap, whatever that meant. “All set to do this thing?”

“Yup! Puy.” …This was going to be a loooooong afternoon. The two of them had to write a presentation on kayaks and their influence on the fur trade, or some shit like that. Roger found a chair and sat down. He checked his watch 3:53; hopefully they could finish quickly. Roger looked at his new watch, water-resistant up to 100 m. He smiled, and remembered that when he was a kid he actually took depth of water resistance into account when buying watches. ‘Hundred…’ He pulled out the piece of paper with the string of numbers on it. ‘Eighty plus zero two reversed was a hundred. AND forty plus zero two reversed… was not a hundred.’ ‘Eighty, two, forty. Eighty to forty? Negative forty? No that doesn’t help.’ The first six numbers seemed somehow related… but those last three… He angrily put it away realizing that he shouldn’t ignore his word-smith of a friend.

“Did you get those books from the library?” Roger asked.

“Over there, er… eh t-revo.” Robert replied. He chuckled and smiled to himself as if that were a particularly good one. Roger felt himself getting annoyed. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with Robert mentally, so it was OK to think he was a moron. But really, how did he not clue in that the second half of whatever he said made no fucking sense. “See them? Meh, tee-”

“Yeah thanks” Roger cut him off. It was probably pretty hard to do actually, remembering what you just said and flipping it around… but so was head-butting yourself in the balls, that doesn’t mean it’s impressive. Well actually… bad example. Roger pulled out a book on kayaks and started reading. ‘Ah who am I kidding’ he thought and went to turn on Robert’s computer. He moved the mouse and the racecar screen saver disappeared. “Alrighty, wikipedia it is?”

“Good idea, a edid, OOG!” Sometimes he yelled his nonsense words as if that would make more sense. Robert pulled up a chair and sat beside Roger. While the computer loaded Roger pulled out the numbers again. ‘Maybe it’s an odd/even thing…’

“Zero…” he started to think outloud “is that always even?”

“Never odd or even. Ne, verod. Dore ven…” replied Robert. Roger hadn’t realized he was talking out loud. “Hmm”. The computer came on and Roger put the numbers on the desk. The weirdest thing was that Robert hadn’t noticed that his short name: Bob, was actually a palindrome. People made sure not to tell him too, Roger chuckled. Wikipedia came up and Roger typed in a word.

“How do you pronounce this word again?” he asked pointing to the screen.

“Flocci nauci nihili pili fication, No I tac, if I lip, I lihin, I cuanic. Colf?” Robert replied helpfully.

“Right, thanks.” Roger replied, annoyed that his scheme hadn’t worked. They sat there in silence for a second and then he said: “You know that doesn’t mean anything, that last thing you said”.

“It’s a palindrome! Emord… ni lap? As ti!” Robert replied, grinning like an idiot.

“Whatever.” Roger said sitting back in his chair. “So how should be split up the presenting… should I do all the talking or…”

“What’s that? Tah T.S.T. ahw.” Robert said pointing the piece of paper with the numbers on it.

“Oh nothing, a stupid puzzle I can’t figure out. So kayaks… they’re exciting eh?” Robert picked up the paper. ‘I guess he’s changing the subject, was I rude?’ “Ok we can both talk.”

Without saying anything Robert picked up a pen, wrote something and handed it to Roger.


“What are you doing. In pen? Really?”

“Leap years. Sra eypa el.”

Leap years..? Then Roger saw it. The commas melted away and he saw the numbers grouped in fours: 8002, 4002, 0002, 6991 and now 2991. Or 1992, 1996, 2000, 2004, 2008. Leap years… backwards. He looked up at Robert, who was smiling, happy he could help.

“Leap years… Robert…” Roger was at a loss for words. ‘Wow he just gave me $500.’ Something about the way Robert had just handed him the paper; so eager to help made Roger feel guilty. Guilty for not wanting to be here… guilty for being dissapointed when he’d found out they were partners… guilty.

“Thanks… Bob” Roger said. Robert thought for a second, and then it hit him. His eyes let up as a huge smile came across his face.

30 Minutes

I’M GOING TO TYPE NON-STOP FOR THIRTY MINUTES I SET A TIMER AND AM GOING TO KEEEEP GOING UNTIL IT RUNS OUT! oops was looking down and honestly didnt see that caps lock was on. well this is probably the point where MOST of you are going to depart, seeing as this wont be THAT interesting. it is obviously not going to be very well thought out, or well written or well anything I like wells. I wish that we still got our water from wells. this is very fucking hard, not being able to stop for a second to think or collect your thoughts. they are flying all over the play and wow i meant to type place. thats something i didnt consider that i wont weven be looiing at the screen. okay two minutes almost. anyway, what to talk about? wehyll oh fuck ing fuck fuck this is hard. i wonder how different our religions and mythologies would be if we ohad two suns instead of one. or actually how different everything would have been if sdlfkj as;ldkfja;lskdjfa;lsdkjf ;lasdkj fTHIS IS HARDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD ooh that was nice and relaxing. stream of consioucness, i always hear people groan or roll their eyes with their words when that phrase pops up. i suppose there is something sinasdoisjdfsaodifasdiojfasodfj that is what im going to do when the word i would like to use isnt there right wawy. oww this is really like holding your breath. oaky what was i wasing pretentiousness. there are certain words that you cant help but sound rpetentious when you say thiem: paradigm is one of them. i know i had a lot of others but if course i cannt stop to think, i cant even stop to realize that i meant to write cannot instead of cant. well its been four whole fucking minutes so far. maybe if I slow things down a little bit. yeah this is nice. now i”m pretty sure that no one is going to be reading this so I can say whatever THE FUCK I want. well no wit asdlkfjasldk fasldjfasd buck this is SO FACKING HARD!!! but I’m going to push through and maybe try it agin another time and the fact that isnt the only time I will ever do this will make it easier. fuck this is pretty fucking incomprehensible. haha im being like a wrappter ooops I mean rapper and typing i mean . I am beaing like a rapper and saying fuck when I cant think of a word to say. Actually I think that they say fuck to make the sullables like up. ANYWAY. I think that I like riding in the back seat of a car beacuse it reminds me of when I was a kid being pushed in a stroller. I think that most hobbies we have as adults are trying to recapture those moments of bliss we had as kids playing with out toys by ourselves (OUR TOYS, not our toys as Freud might want to say). Fuck this is just horrendous language. I feel like this isdfa sdjf ;laskdjfl;askj dvakjsbfgajsdnflasdf That’s what happens when I lose my train of thought. FUCK! train of thought that’s funny. this is like one of those railroad building agames with trains running all over the fucking place , one train of thought YEAH RIGHT!!!!! Alright like usual like always I’m going to restat now and make everything proper. Just so you know I haven’t stoppe dtyyping since I started. I’ll admit that I AUTOMATICALLY hit backspace a couple of times when I bade a mistake but for the most part I haven’t really stopped. I don’t know why I decided to do this I know that no one will read it. ALRIGHT RESTARTING A CLEAN FRESH SLATE AND FROM NOW ON THINGS WILL BE WELL WRITTEN AND COMPREHENSIBLE!!!! IF YOU WERE SKIMMING AHEAD TO SEE IF IT GETS BETTER OR GETS LIKE ENGLIGH YOU CAN START READING HERE!!! Wow pretentiousness, that was what I was talking about earlier. I get reminded by that of phrases that people use in movies that are IMPOSSIBLE TO say in real life without sounding entirely fucking pretentious. Like “here we go”, try saying that in daily like and wee how well that goes over. Well this is NOT going well but I’ve eaten up a good ten minutes already. Alright lets be a little bit meta WAIT THIS IS THE REAL POINT WHERE THINGS WILL GET COMPREHENSIBLE SO IF YOU ARE SKIPPING AHEAD SKIP TO HERE!!!! >A<SJ@#UR)@#(*$)(@R)(@#*$)(@#*$ A couple of symbolys to get your attention, nice! So lets be meta and write about the process of this writing! But fuck THAT sounded pretentious. Alright is this ‘stream of consciousness’ is what I was wtiying Im ean asdfj askdj fal;skdjfasjd trying to answer easeirely . Fuck that just writing whatever gcomes to mind is berrrrrrrrrrry freeing. This is therapeutic and it’s no I mean so nice knowing that no one will be reading this!!!! I find it funny that periods indicate the end of a sentence but three of them inditcate that something will go on forever. If I were inventing a language that is the or a kind of ocnvention that i would adopt. I think it’s interesting that three of something would mean the exact opposite. Now back to what I was saying this isn’t stream of consiousness because there is more than i eam asdlkfj a;lsdjkfl;askdj f more to consciousness than one’s internal dialogue which is what I’m desperately trying to communicate every single word of here. It’s almost like being new at an instrument and not being able to get the I mean your fingers to play the sound that’s happening in your head fast enough. That reminds ofme the fuck the fuck I meant to say that that reminds me of song lyrics that I’ve misheard but preferred the misheard verisions. I will tell you about that in a sec but let me introduce a JOKE!!! Jokes are finnyaskd f;laksdjf;laskdjfl;askdj Was about to say jokes are funny but that sounds like something a sldkjf a;lsdkj flasjdvlasdkv I don’t know *word for a eperson I don’t want to sound like * would say. Carl Jung had a book called The Red Book where he wrote about his experie My joke is hould get back to because it involves time. Fuck man I think that this would have maybe been a lot better if i had written in English and not this gobbledygook. Alright why was 6 afraid of 7? I will tell you in exactly FIVE MINUTES!!! Alright sdakj flaksjd flakjs dfjust waste a okay here we go. No fooling I’m starting to make sense starting NOWWWWWWWW IF YOU ARE SKIMMING ALONG YOU CAN SKIM TO HERE!!!!!! Alright I hate it when people are about to tell you something but instead being I mean begin by telling you hoe many fuck let me begin again. this is lalalalalalalalalalalalalala that’s what I’m hearing in my head. I wonder why I never mind thought is gone. I hate it when people begin sdlk jf;ladjksfl;kajsdfl;k Argh can’t phrase it exactly RIGHT!!! I hate it when people tell you how many words they have to tell you. Now fuck it. If I had aevne I had ever TEN SECONDS to phrase that properly it would have had you in HISTERICS!!!! And that is NOT the right spelling of hysterics. thtis is WAY harder than I thought it was going to be. Well no one is reading this anyway. And jus never mind. Was going to go on a rant again cynics but fuck it. I’m gign to o wuickly to be able to phrase it proper;y But what I do find AGAIN SKIP TO HERE I’M ABOUT TO TRY AND SAY SOMETHING SOMEWHAT COMPREHENSIBLY!!!! I was curious as one I men asdojif aspodi fuasdlgajndlfbjndl fjvadms;ljvb dsafvasdfjv At one point I became curious to know if the speed at which we experience reality (REALITY IS ONE OF THOSE WORDS YOU CANT SAY WITHOUT SOUNDING PRETNETIOUS!!! WE NO NEVER MIND STARTING A SENTENCE WITH WE WHEN YOU ARE BY YOURSELF SOUNDS PRETNENTTIOUS AS WELL, but what I meant to say was that someone should come up with alternate ACCEPTABLE words, deemed acceptable by the fucking COOL ASS MASSES for words that sound pretentious) anyway I was curious if the speed at which we experience reality is influenced by the speed of our thoughts. Do we sort of use them as an internal reference point to judge the speed at which things out there are happening? An interesting study ywoud be to give one group something to get them to think faster (wcould be some inaosdnf;oajsdfl;jasd interesting ITS FUNNY THAT JAMMING AT THE KEYS HAS COME TO MEAN IM GOING TO RE WRITE THAT BECAUSE I MADE A MISTAKE) man I thought this was going to turn out FANTSTIC!! Sorry I keep saying man. I think that if I wer a girl I would also be and feel sdfj asl;dkj f trampled by the csdlkj oops trying t o sound intelligent so I almost FUCK THAT fuck the people that think or say or put down orfuck asd;lkfj as;ldfja;lskdf what I’m trying to get out is fuck the people who scysld cynically put down someone as ‘trying to sound intelligent’, go sit on a fucking pinecone. But what I was saying is that if I were a girl I would be offended by how partisan our language is. the answer to the joke!! It’s actually been seven minutes sorry that i made you wait a bit longer but hten again who gives a fuck because no one is reading this!!! Why was sait asl;kdj fa;lsdj fl;askd jI’ll put some markers here so that people who are skimming will see it By the way I think it’s hot when girls thatnk the bus driver. anyway the joke. oops as;dk f;aksd jfl;kaj sdl;fkj al;sdkjf;laks djfl;k ajsdl;fkjasl;dkjfl;askdjfl;kasjd fl;kaj sd Fuck this didn’t you know what fuck that. fuck the critics fuck the imagined idea of quality that we’re forced to lvie up to. fuck the idea that things have to be perfect to be done and fuck my for I mean fuck me for saying ‘fuck the critics’ that’s a very retentious thing to say!! anyway the joke! ******* Why was 6 afraid of 7? Because 7 was a convicted sex offender!****** I’ve definitely used that one before but since nosdkjflasjk dwell anyway. I found it mbarassing taking out my lunch today to sld kfjlasdk jfl;ask djlfjrestart. goddamit I wonder if I always ahavige this much trouble writing. Well I have been typign or trying to type non stop for about 24 mintues now. lk jl;jk l;kj l;jk did that while I scratched my head with my one had. Okay what was I jasldkjsady Yes I found it embarassing to take out my lunch a no fuck dfjla;skjd fl;ak sjdf;auentehjrgaskd;lnvklajrghwehf;jksdhosDHG;jshdflncaSKDJaiuschaHU leifhr I qill plT PLt plt PLt Okay movies I can talk about movies for a bit! Nope that is a bit TOO typical in a BLOG. Fuck why does everything that gets written on the internet have to be called a ‘BLOG’. Even that word sound s disgusting. Anyway It’s embarassing taking out your lunch when y ht there is duct tape involved in it’s packaging. lkjlkj lj sdlfk jsdfl alright my faovurite slsdk falsdkj f What I was about to write about earlier because I got sidetracked with this no I don’t know what to call any of this horse shit. No what I was trying to say earlier was that I’ll often hear a lyric in a song and mis-hear it. Then I’ll actually look it up and it will be much weless interesting than the one I though up m nope (CANT SAY THOUGHT UP MUYSELF BECAUSE THAT SOUNDS TOO SELF CONGARTUALTORY) it will asldkjf laskdj I prefer the was I mis-heard it to the actual lyrics! An example comes from “Dn’t Lok Back in Anger (ADVICE I WILL TRY TO TKE WHEN IM DONE WITH THIS IN THREE MINUTES!!!! THREE THREE THREE) by Oasis. the lin e is “take me to that place where you go wheere nobody knows if its night or day” I alsways thoguht that it was “t…. that you go where nobody knows if its not our day”. Sometimes I think I can FEEL that I’ll like a song before I hear it. That i’ll have some sort of magical ocnnection with this entity that is about to enter bmyl lie. argh Life. Anyway 1:55 left and by that i meant to write fuck what does it matter by the time I write it this will be over. This has been a pleasure. Pleasure Pleasure Pleasure. Argh. Anyway I might try this again one day VERY SOON. it was actually getting a bi nope cancel. I There were a couple of seconds grouped together MAYBE AS MANY AS TEN!!! When I felt that i was actually just writing what was on my mind. It was much hard er than I thought it was going to be. Maybe I should learn to typye first! I think the comparison to the musical intsruemtn makes sense. It’s hard to get what is in my head down on the keys HAHA KEYS LIKE A PIANO! quickly and accurately without thinking about it and fucking up whats coming next.