Electro Man Stage - my display of greatness

As I glanced back at the sparse variety of near recent posts, I realzed that I really didn't want to read any of them. Normally, I look back on past posts fondly, as if to say, "wow, that sure was a good one." The last volume however, I refuse to read. Now I say, "wow, my emotional structure cracks easily, like thin panes of glass on large, cheap windows." My fear of melt downs are real now. When I say melt downs, of course, I mean both the ultra-cancerific nuclear ones, as well as personal ones, both physical and emotional. With my subsequen emotional strength training failing, I've began a strict physical training regimen, as to prevent (at least) one type of burning. The method consistss of many different things that I won't detail here. You, my friends, have three days to comply.

So, here, what? I don't know. I exist, I think, here, but have not yet become certain. Some days seem like longer, boring dreams, while others are intense trips of nostalgic freedom (not free). I have not yet settled on a permanent position, nor can my mind wrap itself around such a concept. Until then I will dream, wither, rust, glow bright, fizzle, cast shadows, tap my feet, flutter, explode, and diminish... simultaneously... which I can soon complete when step 1 (retrieve and believe) of my physical regimen is finished. You'll see where this fits in later. In the meantime, I'm trying to occupy my time, but am ultra-conscious of the fact that I am thinking about how to do this, which , as usual, produces a paralyzing effect within me. So now I will talk a bit out loud about what I'm thinking of putting on my list.

A new guitar (to replace the one I never had)


This one's not new, but I have a guy working on it to get it ready for my handspeed..."because I'm a live. A live wire!"

A turtle - makes a good quiet pet that will lope around the house and hide under his shell, just like me.


A bandsaw. Just like the one Weixel taught me to use years ago. Mitch Mansavage, the draftsmen, who worked at Randy's restaurant for his dad, and whom I now work with (strangely?) also learned his skills from Cliff. Thanks.


A rocket pack - a long shot for obtaining and not hurting myself real good, I know, but a desire nonetheless. Shiny. I would also be interested in renting this man. He looks pretty nice, and could assist me with a few tasks around the place.


Well, I kind of wanted a keyboard, but then I searched for "special keyboard" and this came up. This thing's way more awesome than anything ever, I have a feeling. Please, I will take one. It appears to do things in German, which I've found out to be efficient and really cool in the past few weeks. Knoten!


Now things just got ridiculous. I asked google to find me "chonty." This is what I got, and what the gods want for me. I guess I will go looking for that later, to my chagrin.



Now, since I'm using illustrations today in my presentation, I'd like to take a moment of your time to explain a few problems that have developed in the area. Oh, what's that, you don't have the time? Well, let me ask you something else, could you spare a few extra minutes to save a child from a debilitating cancer growth? Okay, thank you, I really appreciate it.

So, the problem is that my dog has eaten more chicken bones here in my neighborhood and around town in the last three weeks, than she has her entire life. Why? I don't know, they're just around... everywhere. Fuck. People get good deals, I think, and throw them down about the ground. Birds and maggots nip away the remaining meat, while mother nature occasionally rinses them clean with nice little showers and ultra violets. Then my dog eats that bone by crushing it. The people, why do they do this? Chicken is good, I know. ReAl GoOd in fact. So good, I guess, that the bones should be thrown on the ground in a moment of satisfaction, "wow, shit, that was good mother fuckin' chicken (bone is tossed over shoulder, still shot is taken with smile, sitcom end theme plays)."



Oh, that's the end, and I guess I should ask the question that my title begs: Can Electro Man be easily defeated with Cut Man weapon? Also, Guts Man's powers are good to have on Electro Man level, etc. You have three days to comply.

Mystical urban decay conversion

The one week passing of officially being in a new dungeon level offers no outwardly apparent knowledge, and certainly no beacons of sympathy. Deeper investigation indicates that one man did explain to me (without my eye contact or obvious curiosity) that he did indeed drink, "... so much Pepsi at the Brewers game. I mean, let's just say way too much. And, I work there." He was a friendly lumbering man with a overly large face, so I referred him to the gas station attendant and stepped out of his general path.

Rule #2 - there are no rules!

That's the only message I've been able to develop and deliver in a messianic manner to the children of the neighborhood thus far. They have not taken it well adn have been promising revenge for several days solid. Carnando reflected on the situation as he set aside his hat for a better day. He had a moist, caky sore on his face, but refused to explain it to his mother or expose it to the other kids. The fact is that I have nothing more for them, not even a bag of rumple. Sorry kids.

Rule #3 (better known as lesson in a bottle) - do not disturb the ceremonial flask

The beaches are generally foul and bright. Facilities cast shadows and overwhelm nature's aura. We happened upon a stainless steel vase. Sacred chants were likely phrased by others. We were not phased. The flask, swaddled in a bright and new shirt containing three fruit melons, was requesting attention. Whitey split it with her tooth. It was subsequently cranched with a stick. The contents were as follows:

- two leaves
- up to 20 gold plates with foreign writing, wrapped in two directions with two cuts of red textile.
- several stones of varying color
- Indian 1 Pice
- red necklace

A refusal to take it was likely upsetting to the overlords, but left me feeling guiltless. I counted my curses with my free fingers and set up a permanent wish list that will hopefully keep me out of the fiery hell path. Several of the mysterious Hindi ceremonial items were plundered and an attempt was made to smash the melon fruits and the justice that was meant to be. Judgement will come forth, but likely in unknown, non-culturally traditional ways. I will wait in fear in a tight crying ball.

Rule #65 - Repeat and succeed.

Additional rules and ways of life will be questioned and transformed in the coming weeks. A forecast of all events will be displayed in the coming days. Remember, each day is an upright struggle for internal peace to obtain a piece of the pie. I remember once when this creed was put to test. A great man started his own floor mat bartering service and never looked back. Believe it or not.