Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Diet failure is not your fault.

My life is something of a ruin.

and here goes another unfinished story...

I got nothing.

"I had never killed a man. And I am no Mersault. And yet... There was something about the day. It's not that I believe in fate; or Fate. I don't. Quantum randomness and all. Reality is never what is seems. Everything is so much more fluid.

At least he was a bum. A lush we found in the park wrapped in newspaper and dog shit. I can't say that it was planned. We stopped planning shit years ago. And no, we weren't on drugs. We weren't. We weren't drunk or high. But reality had gone fluid. Things weren't what they were. They ... who knows.

It was night. He was asleep. I broke his kneecap with a hammer. We wanted to hear him scream. Then we pummelled him until she bled out. She was a bag lady. We scattered her cans all over the place. Jon wanted to piss on him. But I told him that was a bad idea. Being a broker, he might have friends; you know, ones that can cause trouble. And you never leave DNA behind.

I shot John two days ago. He was becoming too unreliable. He was starting to enjoy it too much. A sadist is grounded in reality. A twisted reality. A violent reality. But a firm reality. And I was beyond that. He was becoming an anchor weighing me down.

I got married yesterday. Her name is Allison. Honeymoon on a private island.

I woke up on my couch this morning. I don't remember how I got here. There was a hammock. And the sun. And the ocean; so blue, so perfect. But... I don't ... remember... "

- Isaac Aronson, 3,000 Days of Sun

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