Nothing New

sisyphus

Sisyphus

Couldn't sleep that night as a result. Stupidity it is said, repays in spades, and I'd been dealt a natural straight. Fact is, I'll never have an accurate toll of how much data I'd vaporized with an empty glance and a quick click, but present hubris aside, I will with the requisite grit and gusto one bright day begin to reconstruct the puzzle in some newer, fresher, more vital form, so help me God.

Now if I can just find those rather bizarre but thorough essays which postulated that the infamous manna Old Bearded Yahweh bestowed upon the desert-wandering Israelites was actually the same mushy stuff my own spooky generation knows affectionately as 'shrooms'—to include in the sobriety and theological sections of the SWORG, the work of one artist's lifetime.

Given my competitive stupidity, surely there's nothing more exhausting than reconstructing my life as a picnic ant...

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