27 minutes to the lecture begins...
Yes, 27 minutes to the lecture begin. I am sitting in this computer-hall-thing and people are talking and there is one guy in front of me watching wierd porn.
With dogs or poop or something.
Now there is 26 minutes left, and that is according to this clock on the computer. The watch on my wrist say 25 minutes. Where did the one minute go? Jesus, I just lost a whole minute of my life, or rather, I never had it to begin with.
All the clocks around me are lying to me! I don't really know what the time is. I can live subjectivly now since I can chose whether to gain or lose a minute or two.
24 minutes left( or 23 if I am to trust my watch) and I am thinking about a field of heather with a lone, gnarly tree standing like some old woman in the middle of the place, proud and bent and erect and shuddering. I think I might have created this insanse play on those plains when I was a child. I played the girl and the bad guy.
But I was not the hero.
I have decided that the real time is between the clock on the computer and my watch. It seems a horrible thing to do, to comprimise any objective truth by setting it between to lies.
But then again, how else will I know the time?
21 minutes left to the lecture. It is a boring lecture.
20 minutes left and I think about the fact that I should write something really interesting here. To anyone who might object to me breaking the fourth wall:" Fuck you" because the wall is there to be broken. I always think it is funny when someone breaks the fouth wall, like in that show when that woman on that sitcom looked into the camera when she wasn't really supposed to. But I was the only one who noticed that anyways, so fuck me I guess...
17 minutes left to the boring lecture. I just cruised off for a few minutes, but I did not find anything interesting. It does not feel wierd to me that I am narrating my entire existence. I am determined to look at that girl by the computer who is reading a strange collumn about women who have genital warts.
There are illustrative pictures.
I want the girl to know I am watching her and I know about her warts.
It makes us seem like old friends.
Like fuckbuddies.
15 minutes left to the lecture and I am lying when I said I was going to use the time that was between the clock on the computer and my watch. In reality I am using solely my watch. I just lied so I could use that nice:"Truth between lies" thing.
It made me feel like a professional writer.
13 minutes left and the girl with the warts has gone. It makes me feel sad, like I knew her and she has passed away like the water I drunk before I started writing this that has passed through my system and now presses my cock for release.
There is water left in there, but also things I ate and things I digested.
Like urea.
12 minutes left and I wonder what will happen if I just posted this and did not finish.
With dogs or poop or something.
Now there is 26 minutes left, and that is according to this clock on the computer. The watch on my wrist say 25 minutes. Where did the one minute go? Jesus, I just lost a whole minute of my life, or rather, I never had it to begin with.
All the clocks around me are lying to me! I don't really know what the time is. I can live subjectivly now since I can chose whether to gain or lose a minute or two.
24 minutes left( or 23 if I am to trust my watch) and I am thinking about a field of heather with a lone, gnarly tree standing like some old woman in the middle of the place, proud and bent and erect and shuddering. I think I might have created this insanse play on those plains when I was a child. I played the girl and the bad guy.
But I was not the hero.
I have decided that the real time is between the clock on the computer and my watch. It seems a horrible thing to do, to comprimise any objective truth by setting it between to lies.
But then again, how else will I know the time?
21 minutes left to the lecture. It is a boring lecture.
20 minutes left and I think about the fact that I should write something really interesting here. To anyone who might object to me breaking the fourth wall:" Fuck you" because the wall is there to be broken. I always think it is funny when someone breaks the fouth wall, like in that show when that woman on that sitcom looked into the camera when she wasn't really supposed to. But I was the only one who noticed that anyways, so fuck me I guess...
17 minutes left to the boring lecture. I just cruised off for a few minutes, but I did not find anything interesting. It does not feel wierd to me that I am narrating my entire existence. I am determined to look at that girl by the computer who is reading a strange collumn about women who have genital warts.
There are illustrative pictures.
I want the girl to know I am watching her and I know about her warts.
It makes us seem like old friends.
Like fuckbuddies.
15 minutes left to the lecture and I am lying when I said I was going to use the time that was between the clock on the computer and my watch. In reality I am using solely my watch. I just lied so I could use that nice:"Truth between lies" thing.
It made me feel like a professional writer.
13 minutes left and the girl with the warts has gone. It makes me feel sad, like I knew her and she has passed away like the water I drunk before I started writing this that has passed through my system and now presses my cock for release.
There is water left in there, but also things I ate and things I digested.
Like urea.
12 minutes left and I wonder what will happen if I just posted this and did not finish.
posted by Alexander at 4:32 AM
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