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Description
CHPTR 03 - Disjointing Of Timespace, Lightbulbs and Martian Dwarves

     I'm going to disjoint time for a second here. Snap it in half, cut out a few parts, and put it back together. Circumvent the laws of physics and jump forward a bit.
     I'm outside, taking a walk. The streetlights glow, bathing me in artificial sunlight. I consider attempting to get a tan under one of them, but I move on. It probably wouldn't work anyways.
     I don't even know where i'm going. All the stores are closed, and all my friends are asleep or several miles away.
     Maybe i'll just explore. Get lost at 1am, in total darkness, somewhere in a forest. Sounds like fun.
     Or maybe i'll raid some dumpsters, go dumpster diving, see what I find besides trash and moldy food.
     I don't know what i'll do, but walking around is better than nothing.
     I wander around outside for about 45 minutes, barefoot and shivering. Time disjoints again, and I find myself in my room staring up at the lightbulb. I don't feel like reading, I don't feel like sleeping, I don't feel like doing much of anything. So I just stare at the ceiling.
     I look away from the lightbulb for a moment. Globules of color float in space somewhere, hanging just beyond my reach, manifesting themselves at the corner of my retina. They go away eventually, which is a saddening event for me. They amused me quite a bit.
     The washing machine dings. The dryer continues to tumble. I change CD's and the music continues to play. The clock continues to illuminate the numbers on it's face. And I continue to do nothing.
     Somewhere on mars 7 dwarves dance as the white snow falls. Time floats on and nobody notices, except for Walt Disney.

CHPTR 04 - Time Negative (Of Summer, Highschool, And Timespace Pt. II)

     What if something were to go a negative speed? Go nowhere and then some? Would it dissapear?
     Right now I feel that way. Time has dissapeared, slowed down to the point of negativity. Time hasn't frozen, it's just infinitely delayed. I'm still staring at the lightbulb. Right now its summer. School starts in a few weeks. High School, where time is negative and the whole world is contained within your text books and your semester grades.

     Thoughts fly by in my mind, forwards, backwards, sideways, and every which way. Like an airport traffic jam. Like thoughts do when time is negative.

CHPTR  05 - Of Airports

     I love airports, and hate them at the same time. I love the smell, oddly enough, and the little stores with their overpriced goods and artificial trail mix. The sound of planes taking off overhead always sounds like spaceships bound for mars and the dancing dwarves.
     And observing an airport is like observing an anthill. Humanoid units scattering around trying to find their destination, not sure of where they will ultimately end up but running like hell to find out, on artificial jet-lag time and with artificial adrenaline running through their bloodcells. And familys pulling 4 year olds after them as they depart for Disneyland and watch their retirment funds dwindle, their nest eggs crack under the pressure of trying to sooth a 4 year old child after failed attempts at Chuck E. Cheeses and McDonalds failed.
     In other words, American culture at its finest.
     And so, whenever I happen to be in an airport and have extra time, I sit. I sit and watch. I love to watch all of them go by, in their business suits and khaki pants, chattels to their cars and fast-food metabolism.
     In my mind there is an airplane. It flys somewhere in distant space.

Description
CHPTR 03 - Disjointing Of Timespace, Lightbulbs and Martian Dwarves

     I'm going to disjoint time for a second here. Snap it in half, cut out a few parts, and put it back together. Circumvent the laws of physics and jump forward a bit.
     I'm outside, taking a walk. The streetlights glow, bathing me in artificial sunlight. I consider attempting to get a tan under one of them, but I move on. It probably wouldn't work anyways.
     I don't even know where i'm going. All the stores are closed, and all my friends are asleep or several miles away.
     Maybe i'll just explore. Get lost at 1am, in total darkness, somewhere in a forest. Sounds like fun.
     Or maybe i'll raid some dumpsters, go dumpster diving, see what I find besides trash and moldy food.
     I don't know what i'll do, but walking around is better than nothing.
     I wander around outside for about 45 minutes, barefoot and shivering. Time disjoints again, and I find myself in my room staring up at the lightbulb. I don't feel like reading, I don't feel like sleeping, I don't feel like doing much of anything. So I just stare at the ceiling.
     I look away from the lightbulb for a moment. Globules of color float in space somewhere, hanging just beyond my reach, manifesting themselves at the corner of my retina. They go away eventually, which is a saddening event for me. They amused me quite a bit.
     The washing machine dings. The dryer continues to tumble. I change CD's and the music continues to play. The clock continues to illuminate the numbers on it's face. And I continue to do nothing.
     Somewhere on mars 7 dwarves dance as the white snow falls. Time floats on and nobody notices, except for Walt Disney.

CHPTR 04 - Time Negative (Of Summer, Highschool, And Timespace Pt. II)

     What if something were to go a negative speed? Go nowhere and then some? Would it dissapear?
     Right now I feel that way. Time has dissapeared, slowed down to the point of negativity. Time hasn't frozen, it's just infinitely delayed. I'm still staring at the lightbulb. Right now its summer. School starts in a few weeks. High School, where time is negative and the whole world is contained within your text books and your semester grades.

     Thoughts fly by in my mind, forwards, backwards, sideways, and every which way. Like an airport traffic jam. Like thoughts do when time is negative.

CHPTR  05 - Of Airports

     I love airports, and hate them at the same time. I love the smell, oddly enough, and the little stores with their overpriced goods and artificial trail mix. The sound of planes taking off overhead always sounds like spaceships bound for mars and the dancing dwarves.
     And observing an airport is like observing an anthill. Humanoid units scattering around trying to find their destination, not sure of where they will ultimately end up but running like hell to find out, on artificial jet-lag time and with artificial adrenaline running through their bloodcells. And familys pulling 4 year olds after them as they depart for Disneyland and watch their retirment funds dwindle, their nest eggs crack under the pressure of trying to sooth a 4 year old child after failed attempts at Chuck E. Cheeses and McDonalds failed.
     In other words, American culture at its finest.
     And so, whenever I happen to be in an airport and have extra time, I sit. I sit and watch. I love to watch all of them go by, in their business suits and khaki pants, chattels to their cars and fast-food metabolism.
     In my mind there is an airplane. It flys somewhere in distant space.