Monday, March 18, 2013

Idle Time Flies...




Times.
The sun had already gone home for the day to continue the delivery of the double dozen dawn-in dose. The light was glowing out. I had taken a walk to the rocky hill at the other end of the estate. Motive; to change state.
   Time Flies. Few Flew.
The reducing altitude of the downhill stroll had with it gathering clouds, darkening day, increasing altitude, a different state, and increasing entropy. The air speed. The speed was sufficient enough to intoxicate playing children,_ , if their working middle class parents had not returned from the dozen dawned-in daze dose of duty/double divide(//)/devotion [duty//devotion] to keep them'the kids indoors. I paused at the locus where the road’s sharp corner meets the bottom of the hill. Right or straight. Home bound or more space travel. How do I proceed. Too Many ?uestions. Breeze carries dust. Dust irritate eyes. Eyes are needed to see (the notion is also generally perceived). I had not planned to walk in rain. I had not planned to walk blind. Still I couldn’t decide to change the gear of my conscious state travel vessel from the lingering forward sec per sec time travel mode to space time travel mode. I was frozen, busy in idle thoughts. I was frozen in action. The rhythmic signals from my phone dropping a dosage of … via earphones increased the dimensions of the entropy and the cool guy chill osmosing from my aura. 
   Time Flies. Few.
A white pickup truck. A white pickup truck was approaching the corner from the right of “Right or Straight”. A white pickup truck was approaching the corner from the home bound of “Home bound or more space time travel”. Few home-going folks sitting in the flimsily [metal] railed barred open air rear of the white pickup truck. As the pickup truck drew closer, it slowed down. Some dude. Some dude on the other side of the road ran towards the passing truck, presumed a safe velocity, hopped, and grabbed one of the skeletal structured metallic shape support of the open air rear of the white pickup truck. He was in. As the pickup drew closer to the corner, it slowed down. I ran towards the passing truck, presumed a safe velocity, hopped, and grabbed one of the loose rusty intent deformed seperated iron barricades. I was in. Apparently, I had decided to travel in space time travel mode without changing the space of my conscious state travel vessel, but by lingering in another space traveling in a space time travel mode. I verbally shared “hellos” and “how far?s” then I tried to drown into the new dimension of the ever increasing entropy and increasing space time from my eventual destination. The small talk they were loudly exchanging against the attack of the wind as a result of the increasing speed of the white pickup truck and the vibrations of its unsteady bumpy ride was in the background of the sounds of my playlist, which in turn was in the background of my trip. My eyes were hidden behind lids of a turned away face because wind carries faster and larger dust particles than breeze do do do. Dust irritate eyes. Eyes are needed to see (… ). Drizzling rain can be inculcated into entropy. I knew my eyes were red from all that, all that dust that blow with the wind. 
   Time Flies. Few.
The route was a straight three kilometer stretch. That was the length of the estate. I, going further away from comfort, did not care much for details. That's too complex for that state. The gate ahead was under renovation and modification. Well!, I had already hopped in. Rapid water drops carries more dust particles than the breeze do do. Dust irritates eyes. Eyes... The white pickup truck took a left turn into a street, a left turn. A right turn. Another turn. A turn. Drew square figures in between houses. Entered a pothole. Changed the direction of the wind. Shit can always get trippier. Space being at random right angles. Time jerking. Conscious space time travel vessel moleculed and in jagged edged circular cubic space. No colours in these dimensions. Entrophy is pure energy heres. No curves heres. Another turn. Like I care for details.
   Time Flies. Few Flew.
We arrived at the other other end of the estate. The rain was still procrastinating but I had received half a cup already. I, : dude? you are so far gone. Jump off and get ghost. So I jump off at the u-turn. Asking I, : dude? why did you get in that truck.
Dude!...
Times.

...

http://t.co/Vp1tbnyCzP

...

No comments:

Post a Comment