And the pieces, they just came together.

I had a crazy dream. Well, not a surprise since they’re all crazy.

And by that I mean that none of them are. Because everything is nothing, and nothing is everything. And if you don’t get THAT, then, well, you can suck my veiny man-meat.

Is that how you spell veiny? Firefox doesn’t like it but doesn’t have a better recommendation.

I told you I was moving them into place. Then Chucky came in and then there was a strange beast hanging and we had a conversation about how its guts showed signs of pre-termination bleeding, a sure sign of predators. And that was important, man, it was fucking KEY to everything.

But Charlene, AKA Chucky, just wasn’t having it. No, a GUITAR, not a CAR, clean your fucking ears out.

So I had to convince her it was real. I couldn’t, and then the obelisk fell on her. I wasn’t there, I was walking down the hallway when it happened. It. Happened. I felt it. I knew it. I WAS IT. Because, like I told you – like I ALWAYS FUCKING TELL YOU – everything is nothing and nothing is everything. It makes sense because it HAS TO.


Hair pulling and purpleness ensue. I can’t explain it, it just is. If you understand, tell me. Tell me. Tell Chucky. She’ll understand nothing. That’s why you need to tell her.

But back to the story. I need whiskey to wash it down. To cleanse the dirty. To cleanse Charlene, AKA Chucky. To sterilize the tip of the syringe. To get back to everything.

To nothing.

Because they’re the same. I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU, motherfucker. I thought I fucking told you. I thought I fucking told you. I thought I could regress without it being THAT again. I thought. I thought. I thought it was everything. I thought it was nothing. So I told you. Goddamnit, I told you.

And then the darkness forgot to fade; took me with it instead. Goodbye, nothing. Goodbye, everything.