It's too enticing to customize every little detail of the future. When it's all at your finger tips it loses meaning. There's something about not being in control that leads to satisfaction at convernging all the pixels under one banner

I figured out my problem with the hats and horses that plague my trail. It's because my first impression is always one of irresponsibility. Showing them I can take care of my walking cactus will give them the proper perspective of my thumb

Some clothes need to be crawled in before they can be called worn. If ambulation is your only form of transportation you're wasting your potential. You'll see me scuttling down the sidewalk on Tuesday

All this reading is shifting my mental allocation to more thinking and pondering rather than spontaneity. That's what I need though, I need quick and real, authenticity. It's there, I either left need a break or some disaccharides

I must not let my attention be taken by these cowboys and spartans. I need to keep my focus on the task at hand, that being the creation of man's first missile. My knife and stick call for my and I must give them their time to shine under the sun

I've grown complacent in all the cards I've seen over the last week. I find security in their ink, hiding among the letters crafted by giants. My refuge is soon to be trampled but it makes no matter, I will ride the wave into the land of Sun and Blood

A new classification is going to be needed soon for these suped up arctic organisms. For some reason they're beginning to learn pottery and water aerobics. It's quite impressive, but I'm not sure how useful it'll be in a martial context

And here we have the Wailing Waltz, being performed by beings seemingly unknowing of their existence outside of this eternal dance. Once per moon does this occur, floating above the spring. People gather from all over to watch this spectacle and find guidance through the equator

Weasels have worked their way into my brain. The very core of who I am. It's hard to de-weasel at this time of year but I'm committed. Fourth Chop Shop is almost open and I can't afford to miss out on the scallion cream cheese

All I have is my lucky pocket trowel to keep digging this hole I made for myself. I fit nice and snug. Some roots and worms have made their way in as well. It's a nice, thriving wallpaper

A terrible, terrible habit of sleeping in dreams has come upon me. I go left and right and right and right and right but there's never an exit. The only way out is through this pore on my nose, and it's not that big

Eggs are everywhere and the lemmings don't know how to operate them. They just keep making techno songs along with various weapons, by what means I do not know. It's astonishing really, but what I need is a spelunker

These menaces don't know the meaning of a good joke. All they do it scream and guffaw, calling it a good time. I try to teach them, but they don't have a foundation for human behavior. They can only mimic mine, thinking themselves unique

A new fixation has risen. It's the night time hues and ballads of the electric chair. Synapses overload and burst in the face of o erwheleming strength and clarity, only to reform in a new pattern. A new brain is made through the interventions of man

So many cubic inches are needed for my clothes. Around 28,000. I should be able to acquire this with help from the Three Toads of Woe, but nothing is for sure until it passes the line from real to fake

All I need is a blue rock and I'll be back in business. My former cube selling business will make its glorious return to the forefront of modern histology. The lumina may have to be tinkered with a bit but we'll prevail

Compelling stories are hard to come by, and even more so when they're just for fun. Do they need hardships? I'm not sure, I'd like to think not, but it gets harder to need to tell a story like that

I finally got some stuff down but I need real substance. All I'm working with these days are vague aesthetics. A lava golem here or a forest lobster there could spice things up but I'm not sure. I need some real plot happening

I need to find the inspiration to quell another kingdom. So far it's just tedious work and I'm not interested in that. I want something bold, grand. I want to stomp on their will

I've been raving and ranting about quitters all these years, they can never follow through when the trees begin to grow and flowers become victims of allopathy. But the second my turn comes around, I cower in the face of the study of life

All my work is done for the week and I'm left to stew in my mind. I work through the branches and trim leaves, until I get to a knot. I can't untie it because I don't have outside resources, so all I can do is ponder the obstacle

I still can't replicate what I see in the videos. They move so thoughtfully and soundly but my movements are spunky and erratic. I need to rerun the simulation again

The acid seeps down into my pores and rejuvenates the lizard deep inside. These tactics must succeed lest the jester in white take another hour of my life

No matter what I do these formations can't work their way into my brain. They've been used for thousands of years but it's just not in my DNA. We'll see if study can overcome my genetic misunderstanding of warfare

Everything is done and I have no tasks left to do, except remember what was said previously, meant to be written down but lost to the pull of drifting thoughts

I'm back on my own two feet because they forgot to take my money but everything is just so expensive. It takes way too much to purchase a line drive mobile, I just want to get to the sun

The siege weapons don't work and if course the second my fiefdom is taken another swoops in to take the spot and all of my votes. I shall get them in the next war, build up my forces

I can't wait for the contraption of infinite surfing and data to come in the mail. It'll propel me into the modern age of study and I shan't be shackled to the cords in the wall

I have finally found a worthy successor to go into playlist #65. The cover is a bit misleading, but the contents will blow you into a classic spy movie or maybe into the grandfather of 3D gaming consoles

I'm using my shirt to plug the light and it just keeps blinking incessantly. These black cubes will show up and they just stand there. I go in and I'm reminding if my state of matter, but nothing much happens

We play all the games and try to redeem the reputation of those who's numbers were lost in the 1400's. He's quite inconsiderate but hopefully empathy will be learned in a timely manner

I'm going back to my roots. Back to the tanned hides and flint clubs I used to use in highschool. They haven't seen action in years but I'm excited to give them purpose again. They long for the formulaic sequence of conquering

Out of all of the Dead Realms, Mike's dad was the only one who kept climbing. "Who's that big bellied guy with funny ankles?" Oh that's Mike's dad, he's the one that invented progress

After aiming my beam at the Drake it's made me think a bit. Maybe I don't have to go down this path. But if I don't, who will make the peanut butter and jelly for the village? Someone's gotta do it, and I know I'll do it well

I stare at this tablet all day trying to etch something but nothing is coming to mind. My professor is sick of watching me put chisel to stone but not striking

I can't believe how I treated the author. He wrote all this for me to enjoy and follow along with and all I did was make insane annotations and my own fanfiction. Not even good stuff. Baseless, but that's okay

This kid can't catch a break. No matter what we do the art keeps coming back glitchy and matted. I think I fixed it, by it was a lost cause by the time I did. His taste is now full of errors and it'll take a year to curate them again

Tiles come and go but this is an absolutely abysmal set of bone. I can't believe how unlucky I've gotten recently. That's okay, I've been redeemed with the bamboo but dadgummit I just want a 論

I'm not sure what to do. I could either fight on a modern battlefield against tanks and jets, or wander ancient dungeons fighting skeletons and light deprived elves. It's a very paralyzing choice

My steed has been waiting for me in the rain for all this time and he doesn't know it. To him, no time has passed, but I've seen worlds rise and fall before riding Pampton again

I get home from my journey to the Sirulian ocean, which I created by the way, only to have a kettle on the boil and my picture frames dusted. Who dares keep my place nice and tidy? I thrive in a good mess. But also please make sure to clean the window sill

My bed is to be prepared in front of the gate of the Young Progenitor. This must happen to enable the rite of crypt openings. He is not allowed unto them until the clock tower is burned and ashes fall on the heads of onlookers and children on shoulders

In a sea of hostility and mist there were two lights to guide the wayward travellers. These lights waltzed with each other until reaching a clear oasis, free of bloodshed. With their task done, they can relax and play some metroidvanias

I've been hitting it with the grain this whole time but that's been my problem. I flow too much but I have to go against it for once. Show that grass whose boss

I've got to get my stuff together and meet the vendor at the top of the hill. He saved all of his fruit baskets for me and now I just have to figure out which reactor core he wants so he can whip together his famous rubber duck cat beds

My implant is working as advertised and I enter a state of focus and clarity. Reflexes are heightened and my muscles move in tune with my intention. The music is hitting as it should and I am untouchable

It was not mine to carry, but this weight has been left here in the gym. Still free. At rest. But that is not where it belongs. It should be rusting in a river only to be pulled up by a guy with a really strong magnet, for that is the fate of all things in poor timing

I restrain the onslaught of verbal slings that form in my mind in favor for tame pebbles. They do not cut deep into his soul, nor mine. This is good for both of us, I hope he finds peace in the way of the fish

I picked the wrong prompt and figuring out how to get away from academia and into the perils of travel amidst a solar flare is the question that plagues my mind as of late. Not referring to this reality though, only that of ink and quill

Only after bathing and breathing in the fog did I arise able to swallow the truths of the day. I watch as my analogies are carried away on a gurney, unable to tell head from spine