skrev on my væg

Dansk! No more will I write, because I've said enough and the clue is obvious. But I'm not in Danelandercountry, oh no, the jordbær are called frutilla where I am, or at least outside they are, not here where I am at the moment, lost in a world of speeding bytes that get magically put together by the sort of wondrous code I hope to one day write. I'm practising.

And as I practise I tire, and the need arrives for me to yank myself and purge the rammed junk, here, here I say. Right here. They call it whatever, and I buy it however, they don't make it like that over here, in fact they make it so poorly that I'm making my own most days and most nights these days (and most nights). If I punctuate so well at times, it's to give you a break, a chance, something to stick a hook into and attach your rope: stay safe as you climb, my dear!

Imaginations and engineering, dream-buccaneering and sneering, cheering, drooling, oh dear, my friends lack friends and years, and some lack everything but a relationship. Tell the whole world, darling, but don't let them send you birthday cards, befriend the world but trust nobody. What pap, what piffle what nonsense nonsense nonsense likeyougiveafuck, like I write here, and as if I read through to check, the thoroughness of this lies in the lack of any plan, of any test, it's made up on the spot and preserved for centuries. I could make myself famous just by including the words "I feel" in a sentence, and maybe I could attract the attention of at least one lucky star just by saying "I feel marvellous" I feel I feel I feel, I feel myself, I'm feeling myself, and now I've hi-jacked the sentiment and twisted the whole meaning of the database, I feel like throwing this immense sentence of inconsequentiality out there and if they feel me then they'll follow: LOOK AT THE LENGTH OF THIS SENTENCE, it's like a book in a sentence, a world write here, go ahead and java extract me I'll tell you everything you need to know, Ms Curious.

And with that, the final stab in the darkness of insanity, it's time for an acceptance test of the most regular order, the master of one style is the amateur of another, history has been made, but there are so many histories now that making a new one is a trifling experience.