Usually, when I post it takes me a good 10-15 minutes to come up with something that is worthwhile to write, but today I buck tradition and orthodoxy and instead take up arms with my temporary compatriots, the postmodernists and attempt a freewrite - my own unhindered consciousness unleashed on this medium of the book blog.
What is consciousness? Is it like a light in a lamp, or is it the lamp itself? Perhaps, being restricted by only being able to think about consciousness within the confines of one's own consciousness will forever restrict us from understanding the nature of our thoughts - but I expect not. Why? You ask. Well, I don't know. But I'm ok with that.
Moving on, what's the deal with male nipples? They provide no precious beverage and they don't even look that great. I wonder, if a male was born without nipples, would we call it a man, or would we kill it, because we are scared of it and its nippleless, skin-covered upper-abdomen and its strange language of clicks and guttural grunts. He , or it would say, "Huruck k k k Kalick Kloop Ghoortee foo," and we would just look at him and wonder, because if it doesn't have nipples, it must not have a soul, but it probably still tastes pretty good.
Can't take it much longer. Fight the beast - eat the rainforest - who's whitey - rabid rapid rhinocerous - fight him! - spears the natives cry for resolution without angst@zulushack_of_ribs.common
Signed,
Runs with Scissors
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