Timebomb

Have
you ever experienced staring at a clock, contemplating on the
overwhelming clarity of each tiny, teeny, tick and every terribly
truthful tock, and you know in your very soul that you are an existing
being wasting away your existence by staring painfully at that
mechanical face filled with mechanical fingers, as though the next tick
or tock could be the last?…

KABOOM!

Just
like that and everything about you ends. The numbers in your life are
arranged in a linear fashion. You start with age zero and then
proceeding into seconds and minutes, and hours and days. Soon your
mother is counting trimesters, and then baby months, and then childhood
years and so on and so forth. But as surely as you know you got
yourself into big Shit the day you realized you’re ALIVE, you also
realized with overwhelming certainty that one day you’re gonna stop
ticking.

Cogsworth only has twelve numbers but he goes on and on and on…

Nobody said life was fair…

I hate the philosopher who said I think therefore I am…
he has transformed the art of boredom into a philosophical endeavor…
counting seconds used to be just that. counting seconds… now I’m
counting seconds and contemplating on life at the same time. And what
do i get at the end of it? Increased intracranial pressure and
epistaxis…a headache and a nosebleed…

Needless
to say all this cynicism is but my version of transforming the art of
boredom into something the least bit meaningful… bleh…

I think I’m going to go now… this girl will self destruct in 5…4…3…2…1…

poof!

Nov 26, 2007