BESEEDED dressing grown

i maid the miss steak o' oh oh ooooh oooooooh miss- miss- missed the tar-get, what a terrible misssteak, there'd probably be some kindo' o'huh'kiddo

everything drivel

Hi only If YOU wereAttRACKtive

Oh. Or so Weezer tell me. Lets just imagine for a second, lets just imagine for one f--king second that I was a girl. An attractive girl. This isn't anything weird or anything, just hear me out. Okay. So imagine I was an attractive girl and you were a guy and you were really good looking. Imagine that. Like, really, like, just imagine it. That'd be so hot.

exercise in delusion

"It's not that you're asking a stupid question, that doesn't bother me. What bothers me is that you're asking the wrong stupid question."
-Ace Wagstaff, S.R. (Sporadic Recordings Series), 2007

"Am I some kind of god? I don't know, it's difficult to say, I don't think that I'm 'the' god, however, any other speculation is certainly within the realm of possibility."
-Ace Wagstaff, S.R. (Sporadic Recordings Series), 07-2006

Word Verification

see: soar

I think it may be time to abandon technology and revert to the handwriten. I'm so glad you have hung on. Continue to do so. In fact: don't just 'hang', but rather, climb, when you can, of course. Eventually you'll be climbing so fast, you'll realise that you've left the tangible and have begun to soar.

Sans Nichts ('tea parties are for chumps' excerpt)

"I fear I am becoming less tangible. A kind of idea of someone else, as a character; I know this is probably definable as some kind of mental illness," he paused. The Doctor had those ever waiting, wet, glistening eyes. The Doctor never should any sign of being in agreeance or otherwise, he was a poker player, there was never a cue to continue or stop, just a presence, so he continued, "I'm just not sure I should be,” be tried to find the right words, “I’m not sure that… I don’t know, I’m just not sure.” Without warning there was change: he was in a food court, possibly in a shopping centre, maybe at a major train station, its familiarity was vague. Samantha sat opposite him: deadpan. “We all feel like that sometimes,” she comforted, "do you wa-" she never finished her sentence: he found himself lying in his bed, the switch from vertical to horizontal made his head spin.

He had an electric taste in his mouth. The insides of nose felt wet. The kind of low-immunity 'wet' you feel after staying up all night, a kind of 'running-yourself-ragged' feeling. He over-analyzed his physical state. He began too much of his internal monologue with 'He'. He felt dizzy. He was dizzy. He closed his eyes.