CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
frtaeyryyyyyyyyyyy
i hate it when people type "fr" for "for real" because I always think it's a shortened version of "friend" rather than "for real" just type the full words it's not that fucking hard yes even if you're on twitter (WHIle IT STIll EXIsts LOL) it's only a few more characters y've got 280 who cares fucking type words i hate it
oh yeah also
this isn't the eight hundredth thing. that's a completel lie!
you see the first thing of the day was just called "thing of the day". it wasn't meant to be anything but that.
for some reason i did another one, but that was "thing of the day (thing+1)" because that's what my diseased mind decided to call it. So that was the second one. The third one was "thing+2" and so on.
SO THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY THE EIGHT HUNDREDTH AND FIRST THING HAHAHA
it's like how the first year was year 0 so jesus was actually born 29884 years ago or whatever di otn'sadfis
DIDDY KONG RACING
did i make an effort when i wrote the first things? Is houdl got back and read them
did i jdo the thing right away wehre i don't correct spelling mistkaes or typeoes or correct punctuation? probalby? it's a cool trick because i can say it's the "style" of thing of the day. but in reality it'jsu stbecause i'm lazy and it's easier
everythg
what was i going to type there it's a mystery
things appear in my head nad siappear
i don't konw
i never knew
but hey
JOHNNY NOSE WILL FEATURE IN THIS THING OF THE DAY
but first
horse
there must always be horse
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Charles Horse sat at his computer. It was a day of the week ending in "y" so that was what he did. He put his feet up on his desk. Probably not a wise decision, he'd ended up with sore testicles because of that in the past. He didn't know why doing this hurt his testicles. Maybe it didn't. Maybe he'd just had sore testicles from over-wanking and he'd happened to put his feet up on his desk one time and blamed that. Never blame the over-wanking, it means you can't wank as much.
He thought of making one of his daily postings on his message board. He wondered if anyone would read it.
It had been four hundred and twenty seven days since someone other than Charles Horse had posted on the message board. And that post had been "Hahaha fuck off Horse."
But still, maybe someone would come back. They used to always come back.
Maybe they were all dead. Maybe Charles Horse was a thousand years old and he'd been doing this for a thousand years. Why not? How would he knoew? It was all the same. Every day. Every post. He could be an immortal super being sitting at a simulation of a computer with his feet up on the simulation of a desk. He could have made it so he'd never know what he really was. He could have been doing this for as long as the universe itself had existed. It would all be the same to him.
He'd still be Charles Horse.
He wondered, for a moment, who Charles Horse even was. His current sense of awarenss? That's why we think we're alive, isn't it. Because we're self aware. But what even IS self awarenss? To Charles Horse it was like he was listening to his thoughts, watching his life, watching the world pass by. Yet he must be in control, mustn't he? Then why as he like this? Why wasn't he doing anything else?
Because all you are is the architecture of your brain. You are the physical matter of the universe arranged in such a way that you're aware of it. Nothing more. Just atoms making up...stuff. Neurons. Brain stuff. He didn't know the words. But it was all just pieces slotted together in a way that made a brain. The same as a computer. Or a cat. Thinking matter. Aware matter.
And there was so much else going on in his body beyond awareness. What about all the things his body does without him thinking about it, Charles Horse wondered. Breathing. Who is breathing for him? It's not him. It's his body. Is it someone else? Is there another in his body, solely in charge of breathing? Another consciousness that he can't quite reach because it lives somewhere else in his brain?
What about dreams? Who makes them? It's not me, thought Charles Horse. I sure as fuck am not arranging those dreams. Sometimes he visits whole new worlds in his dreams and they're just...there. Complete. With layouts. And Charles Horse did not consciously put those worlds together. So who did? Who decided?
There is another person living inside Charles Horse, one he can never know.
And maybe the other is the real one? Who knows? How can the aware Charlese Horse know anything but the current moment? He's just his brain generating awareness, playing a trick on itself. How does he know he's the same Charles Horse as the previous iterations? He can remember all of them, sure, but that's only because his brain stuff has formed memories. Maybe they're all dead. Maybe he just died.
Maybe one day he'll die forever and the other will walk around in his body creating dream worlds and breathing and people will think it's Charles Horse and maybe he's as valid a Charlese Horse as any of them.
Anyway.
He didn't post on his message board today.
He'd lost the feeling.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
WHAT'S THE POINT OF DOING ANYTHING YOU JUST HAVE TO SHIT AND PISS AGAIN EVENTUALLY HOW IS ANYONE GETTING ANYTHING DONE WHEN THEY'RE CONSTANTLY HAVING TO SHIT AND PISS FUCK
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
imageinsd
g
stwitt
g
g
yeah
you'd think i would have planned something for the 800 hundredth (actually 801st) thing
you'd be wrong!
but Johnny Nose is coming
he'll save it
we can always rely on crazy old Johnny Nose!!!!!!
even thouh I'm just going to type "Johnny Nose got hit by a car and died"
because if Johnny Nose was real he'd be dead by now
he'd never make it
there can be no Johnny Nose in real world
so what can i fucking write
how can i even get into the johnny nose mindset now
he's a relic of a bygone era of my mind
before i gave up entirely
he was hopeful
he was the dream
now?
fuck
well
let's see if i can do it
for it is now time...
For Johnny Nose
________________________________________________________________________________________
Johnny Nose walked into the library with a bible under his arm. He slammed it down on the desk to the shock of the woman behind it.
"I'd like to return this bible, please!" he said. She hesitantly picked it up.
"Are you a member of this library?" she asked, after looking under the cover.
"No," he said. "But I still want to return it. It's shite."
"Sir, this bible doesn't belong to us," she said, sitting it down and pushing it slightly towards Johnny.
"You're a library, aren't you?" asked Johnny. "AREN'T YOU?"
"Yes!" she said. "Please don't shout!"
"Oh, we have to be SILENT in the LIBRARY, do we. BECAUSE STONE COLD SAID SO?"
"Sir..."
"Look, this is a library. This is where books live. So please take this bible. Give it a good home, with the other books. The other works of FICTION."
"We can accept it as a donation," she said, plainly trying to get rid of him.
"You're trying to get rid of me! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Sir, if you don't leave I'll have to...well, we don't have security in here. But I'll call Brian."
"Is he burly?"
"He has a beard."
"Okay, I'm going. BUT DON'T GIVE ME ANYMORE BIBLES."
"We didn't give you that bible!"
"You did, I broke in and stole it from you bedroom after wearing all your clothes and masturbating. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"No you didn't."
"I'm just lonely."
"I'm sorry."
"KITTENS!" Johnny grabbed the bible from her and ran out into the street. He threw the bible up into the air and caught it. He danced around in the middle of the road, waving his bible above his head. He could do anything!
He didn't see the car coming at all.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
none of that really happened, don't worry! The car never hit him!
Because he isn't real.
and neither are YOU!!!!!!!
__________________________________________________
there probalby won't be a thing+1600
i hate it when people type "fr" for "for real" because I always think it's a shortened version of "friend" rather than "for real" just type the full words it's not that fucking hard yes even if you're on twitter (WHIle IT STIll EXIsts LOL) it's only a few more characters y've got 280 who cares fucking type words i hate it
oh yeah also
this isn't the eight hundredth thing. that's a completel lie!
you see the first thing of the day was just called "thing of the day". it wasn't meant to be anything but that.
for some reason i did another one, but that was "thing of the day (thing+1)" because that's what my diseased mind decided to call it. So that was the second one. The third one was "thing+2" and so on.
SO THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY THE EIGHT HUNDREDTH AND FIRST THING HAHAHA
it's like how the first year was year 0 so jesus was actually born 29884 years ago or whatever di otn'sadfis
DIDDY KONG RACING
did i make an effort when i wrote the first things? Is houdl got back and read them
did i jdo the thing right away wehre i don't correct spelling mistkaes or typeoes or correct punctuation? probalby? it's a cool trick because i can say it's the "style" of thing of the day. but in reality it'jsu stbecause i'm lazy and it's easier
everythg
what was i going to type there it's a mystery
things appear in my head nad siappear
i don't konw
i never knew
but hey
JOHNNY NOSE WILL FEATURE IN THIS THING OF THE DAY
but first
horse
there must always be horse
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Charles Horse sat at his computer. It was a day of the week ending in "y" so that was what he did. He put his feet up on his desk. Probably not a wise decision, he'd ended up with sore testicles because of that in the past. He didn't know why doing this hurt his testicles. Maybe it didn't. Maybe he'd just had sore testicles from over-wanking and he'd happened to put his feet up on his desk one time and blamed that. Never blame the over-wanking, it means you can't wank as much.
He thought of making one of his daily postings on his message board. He wondered if anyone would read it.
It had been four hundred and twenty seven days since someone other than Charles Horse had posted on the message board. And that post had been "Hahaha fuck off Horse."
But still, maybe someone would come back. They used to always come back.
Maybe they were all dead. Maybe Charles Horse was a thousand years old and he'd been doing this for a thousand years. Why not? How would he knoew? It was all the same. Every day. Every post. He could be an immortal super being sitting at a simulation of a computer with his feet up on the simulation of a desk. He could have made it so he'd never know what he really was. He could have been doing this for as long as the universe itself had existed. It would all be the same to him.
He'd still be Charles Horse.
He wondered, for a moment, who Charles Horse even was. His current sense of awarenss? That's why we think we're alive, isn't it. Because we're self aware. But what even IS self awarenss? To Charles Horse it was like he was listening to his thoughts, watching his life, watching the world pass by. Yet he must be in control, mustn't he? Then why as he like this? Why wasn't he doing anything else?
Because all you are is the architecture of your brain. You are the physical matter of the universe arranged in such a way that you're aware of it. Nothing more. Just atoms making up...stuff. Neurons. Brain stuff. He didn't know the words. But it was all just pieces slotted together in a way that made a brain. The same as a computer. Or a cat. Thinking matter. Aware matter.
And there was so much else going on in his body beyond awareness. What about all the things his body does without him thinking about it, Charles Horse wondered. Breathing. Who is breathing for him? It's not him. It's his body. Is it someone else? Is there another in his body, solely in charge of breathing? Another consciousness that he can't quite reach because it lives somewhere else in his brain?
What about dreams? Who makes them? It's not me, thought Charles Horse. I sure as fuck am not arranging those dreams. Sometimes he visits whole new worlds in his dreams and they're just...there. Complete. With layouts. And Charles Horse did not consciously put those worlds together. So who did? Who decided?
There is another person living inside Charles Horse, one he can never know.
And maybe the other is the real one? Who knows? How can the aware Charlese Horse know anything but the current moment? He's just his brain generating awareness, playing a trick on itself. How does he know he's the same Charles Horse as the previous iterations? He can remember all of them, sure, but that's only because his brain stuff has formed memories. Maybe they're all dead. Maybe he just died.
Maybe one day he'll die forever and the other will walk around in his body creating dream worlds and breathing and people will think it's Charles Horse and maybe he's as valid a Charlese Horse as any of them.
Anyway.
He didn't post on his message board today.
He'd lost the feeling.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
WHAT'S THE POINT OF DOING ANYTHING YOU JUST HAVE TO SHIT AND PISS AGAIN EVENTUALLY HOW IS ANYONE GETTING ANYTHING DONE WHEN THEY'RE CONSTANTLY HAVING TO SHIT AND PISS FUCK
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
imageinsd
g
stwitt
g
g
yeah
you'd think i would have planned something for the 800 hundredth (actually 801st) thing
you'd be wrong!
but Johnny Nose is coming
he'll save it
we can always rely on crazy old Johnny Nose!!!!!!
even thouh I'm just going to type "Johnny Nose got hit by a car and died"
because if Johnny Nose was real he'd be dead by now
he'd never make it
there can be no Johnny Nose in real world
so what can i fucking write
how can i even get into the johnny nose mindset now
he's a relic of a bygone era of my mind
before i gave up entirely
he was hopeful
he was the dream
now?
fuck
well
let's see if i can do it
for it is now time...
For Johnny Nose
________________________________________________________________________________________
Johnny Nose walked into the library with a bible under his arm. He slammed it down on the desk to the shock of the woman behind it.
"I'd like to return this bible, please!" he said. She hesitantly picked it up.
"Are you a member of this library?" she asked, after looking under the cover.
"No," he said. "But I still want to return it. It's shite."
"Sir, this bible doesn't belong to us," she said, sitting it down and pushing it slightly towards Johnny.
"You're a library, aren't you?" asked Johnny. "AREN'T YOU?"
"Yes!" she said. "Please don't shout!"
"Oh, we have to be SILENT in the LIBRARY, do we. BECAUSE STONE COLD SAID SO?"
"Sir..."
"Look, this is a library. This is where books live. So please take this bible. Give it a good home, with the other books. The other works of FICTION."
"We can accept it as a donation," she said, plainly trying to get rid of him.
"You're trying to get rid of me! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Sir, if you don't leave I'll have to...well, we don't have security in here. But I'll call Brian."
"Is he burly?"
"He has a beard."
"Okay, I'm going. BUT DON'T GIVE ME ANYMORE BIBLES."
"We didn't give you that bible!"
"You did, I broke in and stole it from you bedroom after wearing all your clothes and masturbating. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"No you didn't."
"I'm just lonely."
"I'm sorry."
"KITTENS!" Johnny grabbed the bible from her and ran out into the street. He threw the bible up into the air and caught it. He danced around in the middle of the road, waving his bible above his head. He could do anything!
He didn't see the car coming at all.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
none of that really happened, don't worry! The car never hit him!
Because he isn't real.
and neither are YOU!!!!!!!
__________________________________________________
there probalby won't be a thing+1600
