I can’t eat the ends of things. Like hot dogs, I have to chop the ends off. They just look weird. Or eggrolls. I can eat most of one, but as soon as I get through half of it, it starts to look like it’s something else, like it’s a creature that’s excreting something and I just can’t finish. And I can’t eat egg whites, only the yolks maybe because they stay warm longer.
Sometimes, if I’m eating some and I don’t totally dig it, I’ll make it into an end. By imagining it. Like with a breast of a chicken or something. I feel strange when I eat at people’s houses and they make a wonderful meal and i can’t eat the ends of things.
But I love the crusts on bread. Pizza crusts too.
flyingsquirell
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When I was a kid, around 10 years old, I had quite a few notebooks of diaries. Some of them were shared with my friends. We used to write on one notebook passing one after the other during a class at school. At that time, I remember that I had a lots of questions in my head as a kid. Everything on the earth was mysteries.So naturallly I kept attacking my father with those questions.”why is that?” ….why why why? He used to answer,”Write them down on a notebook, and you will be able to answer yourself when you are older.” I guess now that he was a little bit fed with my chain of questions.But at that time, I thought its wonderful, since I was still naive to believe that being adult means you understand everything perfect! I believed that everything has a sense. Clear!I believed all superhero, Superman, Ultraman, etcetc, right is right, wrong is wrong.and being excited about, one day when I am gonna be a grown up, and understand the whole explanations. So I had some notebooks, which contains those my early questions. One day I came up an idea that I am gonna make a time capsule, and buried them to the earth in our garden, keeping there till Im old enough. Continue reading ‘Time Capsule’
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I had a dream that a big robot was looking for me on an urban battlefield, amongst some rubble. If it saw me I knew it would kill me so, when it managed to get most of its head inside the little hole I was in, I grabbed its antenna and eye stalks and bent them around so they were facing inward and the robot couldn’t see anything, then I shouted something like “schauen, ein panza!”, which was supposed to mean “look, a tank!” in the dream and made the robot try to look behind itself, thinking it was about to be blown to bits. Because it couldn’t see properly the robot began to panic and ran about randomly all over the place and I felt rather sorry for it.
bartok fiend
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I had a dream that I took a plane to Iceland. When I got there the country was in a perpetual twilight, the sky an interesting pale red. There was a huge army surplus store right outside the airport so all the idiot tourists, who hadn’t realised that “Ice Land” would be cold, could buy warm clothes. The owners of the surplus store thought every visitor to Iceland was an idiot, including me, but were very pleased about it as they made a tidy profit from them. The dream was set in the near future and there were no children around - some kind of atomic accident had rendered all the people infertile, no new people had been born for over twenty years in Reykjavik and only a few fools, mostly old people, and fearless explorers ever visited the country.
Anyway, back in the army surplus store, the shopkeepers became interested in me when they noticed I wasn’t looking at the woolly clothing like all the others but checking out some curious little devices they’d always assumed no one had any use for. They were nothing too special, pen torches, flares and glow sticks mostly, but I needed them as the final components for a larger device I’d made to rid Iceland of radiation poisoning. I’m not quite sure how it came about, but by the end of the dream I had hundreds of followers waving me off as I set out across the snow to plant my device somewhere on high and transmit some kind of cleansing signals that would cure everyone of their infertility.
After walking for a while I recognized that my progress stopped; I couldn’t move anymore. However hard I tried, I couldn’t make a step. Suddenly I started to hear some strange repetative noise coming out from somewhere. I realized it was my snoring, and as soon as I realized it, I heard these words: “When you are snoring, you are not dreaming”. I tried to approach the source of the voice, but couldn’t. “You have to be able to animate ALL the bones in your foot before you can use it”, - said the voice. And suddenly I could move. I went in the voice’s direction and there was a man. I asked him: “Who are you? What are you doing here?”, and he claimed to be my teacher. I thought about that for a moment, and then realized that he wasn’t somebody I know. So I told him: “I AM dreaming!”. He said “Congratulations” in a calm voice, fell backwards and disinegrated. Then I woke up.
flyingsquirrel
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