Salacious Crumb Posted December 21, 2018 Share Posted December 21, 2018 existentially Link to comment
luckylager Posted December 22, 2018 Share Posted December 22, 2018 (edited) enlightening Edited December 23, 2018 by luckylager Autocorrect is such $&!#. Link to comment
Master 112 Posted December 22, 2018 Share Posted December 22, 2018 (edited) acetaminophen. Edited December 22, 2018 by 112 Link to comment
Master 112 Posted December 23, 2018 Share Posted December 23, 2018 And so DarthMelvin, that wonderful man, continued to exist in familiar places doing the same work, meeting and loving the same people, praying to the same God before he ate, worked and slept, living in eternal sameness, pious and simple, for days innumerable; and if he could live this life over a thousand more times--and he would've, the Nietzschean--he would live it the same way he did this life for every one of those other thousand, for there was no longing in his heart for anything more than the pleasures of life he enjoyed: food and social merriments, the cocaine and LSD and borderline pathological obsession with hamsters that kept him happy and interested, the family he made and provided for, his status as an underground EDM artist of much talent but no repute, and the internet buddies he had on a Russian propaganda website who would compose troubling stories about him and share them with each other, sometimes giggling about it. He did not need the affluence, and neither did he need the fame nor the influence of a great emperor; he did not need the power, the authority over some rugged people to whom he would prescribe laws to render them noble, nor the remembrance his name would enjoy centuries after the functions of the body cease, in a second life of fame or infamy that only ended when the force of his conquests was to be outmeasured by the time and other history that happened since the date of his death. Conquering was not in DarthMelvin's spirit, except of himself; indeed, he was a sculptor, a man trying forever to craft his body and mind into something different and higher, overcoming who (or what?) he was, in terms that he would fail to ever convey to anyone, for he was private. He was always in the same town whose every nook he knew, and he had his life planned out from the get-go, sticking always to the whacked path. But in a lot of ways--spiritually, psychologically, whatever--he was also always trying to get somewhere... never lost, never found. 1 Link to comment
luckylager Posted December 23, 2018 Share Posted December 23, 2018 15 hours ago, luckylager said: Tear-jerking mediocrity Link to comment
luckylager Posted December 25, 2018 Share Posted December 25, 2018 (edited) turned Edited December 25, 2018 by luckylager Link to comment
189lb enforcers? Posted December 25, 2018 Share Posted December 25, 2018 Tarentino-bad. Link to comment
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