This is the defining moment in the story, joke, lecture, etc. that you have been trying to work into the conversation for hours at which you realize that all of your hard work, your intricate details, your subtle explanations, are coming together to form one giant tangled mass of words that lead your audience steadily away from anything resembling a point.

You have many options in this situation. You can:

a) Stop your story immediately and admit that you are an incoherent fool.

b) Keep talking, eventually causing everyone to leave the room as your point becomes more and more distant.

c) Make up something interesting that is completely untrue (my personal favorite).

d) Run.

Re: Part C:(Make up something): I was discussing this last night at dinner with a few friends. We came to the conclusion that the best solution when you know your joke or story is going nowhere, and it's going to die fast, is to just say "and then I found five bucks!" Simple as that.

So we were walking down the street the other day, and this guy looked at us and said, "can I shine your shoes?" We politely responded "no" and continued walking, then I started thinking about what to make for dinner. But then I found five bucks!

It just kinda makes the story worthwhile, because hey, you found a fiver!

It was all so perfectly laid out.

The planning.

The waiting.

The timing.

The anticipated reaction.

You never moved too soon. It was a double life, in all its effect, glory and splendor. There were slips here and there but they made simply cracks in a foundation that would never be shaken. I was here, she was there. I was the morning, she was the weekend. I never thought that I would be in this position. You hoped that she was doing the same. There had always been suspicions but never any concrete evidence. It became an ambition, a project. The half-truths and precision became more and more of an importance as time went by and this got bigger and bigger. Shit sticks to a rolling stone.

And then, suddenly, we didn't have anything else to go on.

Too much had been left behind.

I think she knows.

There he was again, tall, lean, long body and hard stomach. Her eyes fastened on him as he walked by to the dumpster for the second time this morning. He had classic chiselled features, strong jaw, sharp nose, prominent high cheekbones and black piercing eyes that made her avert her gaze when he turned his head toward her. His straight jet black hair brushed along his shoulders. He had the look of a proud Native American like the one she had read about in one of her cheesy romance novels.

She had observed him surreptitiously over her book every morning for the past week. She had imagined him walking over to her (in slow motion, surrounded by the magic shimmer like heat distortion off hot black pavement) and whisking her out of her chair, carrying her away to the river bed to whisper his tales of wild carnal knowledge.

She romanticized him no doubt. This is how he should sound, this is how he would speak. He was strong, proud, and wise, the ideal man. He would sweep her off her feet.

At the pool, he dove into the water with amazing grace. He slid through the surface like a seal, smooth and fluid. Her eyes glued to him as he emerged from the waters, droplets clinging to his form as if they were loathe to let him go, lucky beads of liquid. He smoothed his hair back with his hand, squeezing out the excess water, then he looked up with a slow broad gleaming white smile.

She was hardly aware she had stopped breathing when he paused next to her,...

hocked a loogie, and spit it onto the white cement two feet away. She was startled. Her built up Adonis then opened his perfectly formed lips and began to speak.

"I'm going to get fucking drunk, seriously man"

He was grinning at his buddy who was sitting in the chair right behind her. The whining and the belly aching started. Complaints about this chick and that boss and that "asswipe" down the street tumbled across that mouth. Each phrase punctuated with "fuck" this and "full of shit" that.

"I'm going to get so wasted, it's going to be fucking beautiful man!"

Suddenly his appeal vanished, bubble burst and he stood before her as he really was - an uncouth punk-mouthed kid. She packed up her things and headed out of the pool area, tossing the trashy romance novel into the trashcan, spinning the lid for good measure.

For :me
From::futureme

Thank christ.
Thank god I can still type.

Hopefully the rest of my journey will have passed as easily
and unmistakably remarkable as this one has.
fuck it. The meanings will catch up sooner or later.

Now, in the deliciously vacuous space that has been
presented before me
I can begin this tale of delightful misadventure....yes
misadventure is a good word to describe this.

oh wow..now meanings within meanings of..yeah fuck you.

ANYWAY, To narrate this wonderfull tale of fleeting
ambiguity
,
I must first start with how it started.
A start to alllll starticrididdliumpsous adventures,

########################
####### Acid. #########
########################
If only my mind was as articulate as the english language...or visa versa.

THE STORY.

I should just quit here.

Well, I suppose it all starts with the <wacky>crazy visuals crawling out of my screen</wacky>

no...no it doesn't
Oh yes.
the semen stain on my crotch.
the punch line.
my pal and faithful comrade.
the landmark to guide me through this wreck of a story.
and not just any old semen stain.

A newly fresh one.
A ridiculously huge one.

I'm saying it looked like an elephant just bust a nut on my leg.


As you can imagine, an earthshattering orgasm into an acid trip would be
..indescribable.
or just...an orgasm. ..on acid.


Well, lets just start in the bathtub, where snakes crawling
up my legs and
transforming into gila monsters
are really just folds in my khakis,
and the ash falling off my cigarette
makes a "crush hiss crush" sound as it crashes
into whatever the hell kind of indie adjective bathtub this is.

Intermission

Okay, the bad running through me is incredibly incredible

..."astonishingly amazing?"
..."amazingly hard to believe?"
..."suprisingly hard to believe?"
..."unbelievably suprising?"
..."unbelievably amazing?"
..."amazingly astonishing?"
..."incredibly incredible?
"


yes..this feeling is incredibly incredible.
each region of impact is a tautology in it's own right.
and the same with this feeling.

It's starts at the top, moving
in a wave of horrible cacaphony
through every area you ever felt like dying before.
At the head, a splitting skullache.
Your eyes want rest, but they can't get it.
You cannot satisfy your cottonmouth.
Around the neck, your chest tightens.
Your heart beats much too fast.
You feel sick to your stomach, but can't puke.
you wish you shit out whatever foul abomination is giving you this back pain.
you wish you could remove this interstingly ugly stain from your sight,
but changing is too obvious.
you wish a footcramp wasn't so ridiculously painful.

Like I said, each region of impact is a tautology in it's own right.
and the only thing I can control is the context.

Oh yes, the stain.
In the living room, after a mildly terrifying drive home,
My friends enter, the people
I can trust.
his girlfriend, I stand up to do something...
I can still hear that snyde voice
I ask what...

"Nothing, It looked like you were wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses for a second."

But im not wearing any sunglasses.

But I see that face of disgust.

I may look retarded.
But I'm not a fucking moron.
I throw a quick glance at my crotch.
and I smile a big ironic smile.

It does kind of look like sunglasses.
My smile widens.
My friends leave, no verbal recogntion of what just happened.
To go somewhere and snicker in self absorbed eliteness.
I'm not a retard.
But I look like a fucking moron.
which makes me retarded.
he could have said something.
he could have laughed about it.
he didn't.
and now I'm a criminal.
This situation is terribly...burlesqued.
and I kind of feel like driving off a cliff.

So I started writing...

And it started as a joke.

And here I am...
writing...
but that doesn't matter.

what matters.
the point.
before.

she said "how was it...on acid?"
I think.
i thought.
I wasn't sure what she said..
It was amazing..

A whole world of people from which I was socially engineered to hide this from
Where this should have been a good trip gone wrong.
My visibly giant cumstain.

And to the one person who doesn't wear a face.
Where my trip really went wrong.
She just looked slightly dissapointed.
I muttered something about trees...

All of this, and I'm on acid.

Sorry for all the ellipsis -

but I'm tripping balls.

I'm just human -

and I'm being as honest as I can.

Part of a whole species not being able to mean what they say..

Acid makes you give things meaning.
but...meanings...are there...without acid...

and it doesn't matter one bit.
Tautologies are boring.
and this is not a big deal...
Fractals are yesterday's news.

Sunrise took away some of the bad.
I saw some pretty cool visuals.
I was outside talking to a rabbit for the rest of my trip.
uhh, esirnus....

And then i found five bucks.

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