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post-it notes from the NO FUTURE: a wannabe writer in the beta: IT'S NOT JUST A PHASE I'M GOING THRU.


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wFriday, August 26, 2005


People were fucking in the next room all night, moaning and snarling like ghosts trapped in a radio play. It's difficult to sleep when you can't help but respond on some level, like set to vibrate. Brought myself to a brief, self-hating orgasm, cleaned up, went to bathroom and looked in the mirror, brushed my teeth again, put the light off, dreamt, forgot what.

This morning I found the tea-making equipment, made one. The cups feel like props, too thin to be real but impossible to break. Archetypes. Symbols.

I fire up the laptop, and ease on glasses, which is my signal to myself that I am an intelligent, professional person and now is the time to earn my wage and think. Think.

Think.

Type: The problem with contemporary first person shooters is a pervasive dependence on outmoded binary moralities.

No.

Type: I don't like people who play video games. I want to attack them. I want to make them feel stupid and futile. I want to embarrass them.

Type: This game is not about space monsters or zombies or even criminals or soldiers.

Type: In this game, you are no one. And every other no one in the world is trying to kill you, to stop you, to ruin your fun, to stop you playing this stupid fucking game.



a story for my animus
kicking_k 2005 (rough)


posted by kicking_k at 1:48 am




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