September 28, 2005

He was a numerologist

People are cruel and strange. And what they do themselves means nothing to anyone. No single human voice can even be heard anymore.

But as I was saying, there was a man in his study, surrounded by books and he’d become an amazingly self-absorbed hypochondriac. He was also a liar and a glutton. He roundly proclaimed the value of having more in order to compensate for his insipid life, which seemed continually worth less.

He was sleazy and weak-willed and he could barely communicate. He felt cheated and was unsure even of what he'd lost. He didn’t know where he was from, where he was going, or why. And he was no good with numbers. He was also lazy. He had a short attention span. And this is only a partial list. So you can see why the man was insomniac; he was disgusted.

It’s hard to cope with the certain knowledge that you are definitely inadequate. It's hard to think of spending another night trapped in a filthy body, lying twisted on a filthy bed, with your filthy mind strangled by unsoporific thoughts.

“I’m just sick and tired of constantly being hyped and suckered and lied to.”

I said he was no good with numbers but that’s a lie. He was awesome with numbers. He was a numerologist, which means he lived on mathematics and intuition. And dead technology.

From: Dead Technology Play