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A great place to keep your fantastic ideas, like, "Hey! I need to write more sentences about crickets and English gentlemen with unruly beards."
What if the world opened up just under my room, with a thunderclap on a spring day like today - bright, warm, cool, not expecting and naïve - flash of light, thunder rolling over these small mountains, like a god, in a manner that would make Thor put down his hammer, and I then tumbled into that chasm alone, with only that cup from the ice cream I didn’t take down to the sink, those primary color legos which I used to love so much, my collection of old, discarded forever to a shelf, mementos - the combined life’s work of a hoarding crazy like myself, and I would tumble into that chasm alone if it chose to come today, now even, back through a sci-fi fissure in time and relative dimensions in space, down the rabbit hole with a roll on the tympani and all of those early monster movie, twilight zone vamps, then there would be silence as I’d wake up in a land of lost things, a land that time forgot, and as I would stand up to survey my surroundings something like an old Geocentric model, complete with charts and graphs, would drift across my consciousness, a hair metal song would begin, I would look around and see forever if an infinity or two of just stuff weren’t in the way, the bones of artists like myself who’d never made their mark on their craft, and the years and years of history which was lost, because those who won the battles, also at my feet, burned it like plague bodies and the great library of Alexandria, both of which I assume are buried somewhere in that place, under all of the stuff, but why would the fissure, cheesy sound effects and early cg take me? that is not where I belong, because if it takes me soon, I’ll have a family and friends, surely I would not belong, but what if they were things simply forgot or never learnt by me? then I would belong, because somewhere in my head is a space where I do not exist anymore, and I am boiled down to my basest elements and compulsions, carbon, water, pumping heart, rattling breaths, a liver getting over someone’s, maybe my, madness the night before, and if that is so, if somewhere I have lost me between the job and school and mate-seeking, pre-primal lust, then I damn myself to that place when the time comes, “open up and rid the forgotten, lost and lonely things from this earth,” because maybe that is what it takes, maybe all the thunder and lightning strikes that can possibly smite a being are not enough, maybe the world will open up just under my room tomorrow, and somewhere after the disaster, after stumbling to my feet to take a gander at all of the things that have fallen forever by the wayside, some with viable reason, yet most, like myself, the reason is completely and utterly ineffable.
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