All is well, as they say, in the best of all possible world. Volitaire. Pascal. Who? Someone else.

Pascal’s wafer. Pascal’s wager. Is it worth believing in God if there isn’t much to lose in it? I believe in everything and nothing. I am a liar who lies about lying.

So who said that quote? The one I opened up this channel of thought with? All for the best in the best of all possible worlds. Probably Volitaire. Solitaire. Volitaire playing Solitaire. An old reclusive wino with a bad leg from falling in the shower, setting the stage for a future of more, exponentially more, solitude in, uh, ineibriated. Solitute in an ineibriated breach? Breath. Nothing follows.

What else has arrived to mind? Then? Must not be worth recalling. Am I okay — is the main point. Sure. I get by. I throw theatrics. I exxagerate. I lie. I don’t use autocorrect or a grammar/semantic built-in suggestion. I use my flowing state of whatever, honestly. If I wanted to talk about State of Decay, a video game, uh, well, I most certainly will and would.

That game is great, by the way.

Anyway.

For what it is worth, I could stretch this out pretty far. I could be a spider weaving a web of words, attracting only the dumbest stray, rather incomplete, thoughts. It might be interesting. It might take too much time, though. So I have to weave in and out of the merging thought processes currently running its course through me.

The question everyone should ask. Is it worth it? Did I already think or communicate that? Well. Sure. It is fine. I get by. It might not be the best of all possible worlds, but it is a world, nonetheless. I have said more, and when I said more, it was less.

Now I will say less, even less. I like being unknown. It gives me freedom. I do suppose though, for what it is worth, that I alreadt covered this concept. Which is fine. I am not lying. I have healed from my most recent injuries. I became a living VooDoo doll by stepping, in real time, in real life, on a sowing needle; it pierced my foot without a drop of blood. It just hurt. So I sanitized it. It was okay/alright/fine.

What isn’t okay or fine or alright is my fucking sleep patterns. Damn it. I need more time and want more time. I am in a fugue state, not quite comotose. Hope I spelled some these words correctly.

Last time I checked in I had the wrong idea about what unilateral means. It means encompassing the entire half of a given circumference. It is unilaterally half of an entire whole, an entire half to which the domain contained within obtains itself completely. That would be great if my comprehension of that is wrong.

Enough. I have to retire to my chamber of chambers. Get it out of your head, will ya? I am incorporating a specific style of aloofness and carelessness. It is only writing. The eventual consequence is a familiar alienation. Not a new concept to me.

For you? Just go. Take on new projects, or take in new information. This report contains a starvation of substance, because I am not going into detail about any important things that I should. Go into detail about.

You gotta say. This guy here can really say a lot without saying much at all. What a profound retardation.