People who bother me.

People who fail to understand that it is them who is bringing everyone down bother me.

Actinic word sequence.

Type.

This seemingly insignificant tract of type expects you to figure everything out for yourself.

Learned.

If anyone tells you they have ever learned anything from what I have written, let me tell you they are lying.

Error 404.

Madness.

Being mad is a great excuse for giving reign to hate and bad behaviour and bad jokes, while handing over to others responsibilities for one's life; the effect being to cause as much trouble as possible while remaining a virtuous victim.

Metaphysical Fridays.

Considering your brain is conscious and fully functioning for up to 20 seconds post-decapitation, it's possible that it has already happened. Can you ever be totally sure no one is behind you?

People who bother me.

People who shuffle lamely through life at the speed of radioactive decay bother me.

Nothing.

A nothingness of incomprehensibility is a sensible outcome if you really think about it.

Venn diagram.

Colour plate.

Suspension.

In belief of certain types, the will must be passive and the intellect suspended; a realm of phantoms entered into.

Actinic word sequence.

Discovery.

I have discovered that you have a single weakness: that you are weak.

Introspection.

Take a good long hard look inside yourself. Like what you see? Is it revealed that you are a fat, drunk, cliche with bad feelings? Do you discover a grim euphoria in what you find? Or both?

Pleasure.

Metaphysical Fridays.

Once you have read this you cannot unread it, and so your dalliance with its meaning is unavoidable, even if you should try to avoid considering its purpose.

People who bother me.

People who feel good and moral about themselves while stipulating that the moral high ground is where others are not, bother me.

Colour plate.

Trust.

On my third visit, the bottle of rum came out in full view before breakfast. He lifted it to his lips and swigged gleefully, directing a knowing glance and a lopsided smile at me. He'd obviously decided I could be trusted (and after only three visits!) I was flattered and burdened.

Accent.

I have the rare gift of easily imitating accents in writing: The blue towel in the cupboard is threadbare (Spanish);  The blue towel in the cupboard is threadbare (American English). 

Experiences.

The next person you see, tell them that I asked you to tell them to read this so that you both have a shared experience; I know how lonely it can get.

Actinic word sequence.

Succinct.

Affirmation.

Over-analysis of why 'having it all' isn't as life-affirming as you'd expect is best resolved when you accept a portion of your daily life as being an unavoidable series of minor disappointments.

Metaphysical Fridays.

The announcement that my ability to focus was stifled by the ruthless grip of ennui drew a visceral response from Carl, who, shouting above the roar of the wind, suggested that perhaps I should have made peace with the absurdity of human existence before I joined him on a world record tandem paragliding attempt.

Feeling.

She told me she had an inconsiderate suitor: he didn't feel what he knew he should feel.

People who bother me.

People who display ostentation in mute eloquence bother me.

Actinic word sequence.

Memory.

Once again I'm experiencing amnesia and deja vu simultaneously. I'd forgotten how familiar it feels.

Colour plate.

Fiction.

Nothing is universally truer than a work of fiction set in an imaginary world by an anonymous author. Nothing is less reliable than eyewitness accounts of a specific event by two well-known historians.

Verb.

Anticipation.

Whatever it is you anticipate gaining from reading this post, there is no way I can know what that might be at the time of writing. I'll hazard a guess: that you are looking for semantic insight and lexical inspiration to help turn your life around. If that is correct, I find it too heavy a burden, so will provide neither.

Naming rights.

Choose an epithet for me. You'll think of something; it's what you do.

Pagophagia.

Metaphysical Fridays.

A friend of mine has a predilection for sugary snacks. Cory is a practicing Buddhist, and when his teeth required attention due to decay he decided not to use pain relief. He's not ideologically opposed to the drugs, rather his refusal to accept anesthesia was because he wanted to transcend dental medication.

Voice.

The only time I am present in my dialogues is to explain my absence. For example, today I am attending a b-list celebrity book launch so will be unable to write an excerpt on the origin of the universe. Had I been here to do so, I would have written in the third person. I do not write in my own voice; there will be no treatise on the subject of my own ideas; all of these words are yours. 

I think I am.

She told me that when it came to us the only things worth considering were those things about which there was no more to consider. I said I had no idea what she meant, and she said exactly, only ideas are worth contemplating; nothing else is real. I scratched my non-existent head with my non-existent fingers and said nothing. Now you're getting it, she nodded.

People who bother me.

People who reach out to pull an imaginary rope, thinking that somewhere a bell will sound, bother me.

Colour plate.