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The Quick Brown Fox

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.  The fox bounds through the thicket and deeper into the safety of the lush forest.  His heart pounds in his furry chest and his muscles burn with exertion.  He can hear the baying of the hounds in the distance.  The pack rushes to catch up, but their bulk works against them here.  Digging deep and letting the primal need for survival take over, the fox pushes on, tearing up swathes of earth with each graceful stride.

The lazy dog bemoans the flash of brown and white as it darts overhead.  Laying in the meadow with the brilliance of the sun shining down was how she preferred to spend her days.  After the sheep and cattle were herded, the dog tended to slink away to her favorite place by the stream.  Seeing the fox dash by in such a rush only irritated her.  She wouldn't give chase, but only because a patch of grass under the shade of her favorite willow was calling her name.

The pack tore after the vermin with every bit of ferocity they could muster.  Their breath was ragged and the heat rolled off their short sweaty pelts.  Numbering a dozen strong, they ate as one, slept as one, and hunted as one.  Only in the chase did they feel a sense of purpose.  The shouts of the master atop his thundering horse behind them only encouraged them.  They would find the vermin even if it meant chasing him to the ends of the earth.

Stream of Consciousness

Shake off the cobwebs.  Just start writing.  Put the words on the blank screen.  Good lord, your typing is terrible.  Look at how the words want to flow in the beautifully fluid Word 2013, but your clumsy hands are all over the keyboard like a drunk on the street.  There we go; words on the screen.  Rusty gears moving and it’s coming easier.  Turn up the music and go with the flow.  Why aren't you listening to that?  It’s your jam. 

For the love of all that is holy, do I hate all music players right now.  From Xbox Music to iTunes, each is delightfully retarded in its own special way.  iTunes wants to convert my music to a unique format before it will list it all.  Honestly, how hard is it to just show the fucking MP3s?  And Xbox Music keeps shitting itself by not showing all of my music.  And it’s not like I have a lot of music.  I really don’t.  And half of what is shown is missing album art or gets sorted into the wrong album.  It’s like they try to help, but end up making things worse.  I swear, we’ll never have it as good as we did with Zune.

Jeez, only --- words.  Stop looking at the word count.  And definitely don’t look at the fact you haven’t posted anything of note since last October.  Never draw their attention to the lack of posts.  Stop it.  Now.  Nein.

Let’s talk about dicks.  Not the fun, floppy kind that’s hanging betwixt your legs.  No…the kind that plague online games.  Jesus man!  You have to segue into games?  From your lethargic posting to music players to dicks to games.  It’s painful.  Maybe I should differentiate the thoughts from the actual article.  But aren't they all thoughts?  You need a point to call it an article. You need arguments and backing points.  You need cohesive thought.

And you need to stop saying ‘you’.

I know that it’s not right to shift perspective like that unless you’re switching characters.  Even then, you need to have an established primary character to express thought in the first person while the supporting cast rambles about in third person.  I’m not terribly keen of diving into something that invested right now. 

So, it’s been a while.  How have you been?  Did the holidays treat you well?  Are you enjoying the snow?  I am.  I fucking love snow.  Which has me thinking.  When saying “I fucking love snow.” there is a clear emphasis on ‘fucking’ being the adjective and strongly establishing my love of the fluffy white stuff.  However, if I say “I love fucking snow.” ‘fucking’ immediately enters an ambiguous state between verb and adjective.  Do I really love the snow or do I just like fucking it? 
Which leads us back to dicks.

It’s so hard to write when a cat is trying to walk across the keyboard in an enthusiastic effort to get attention.  I need to figure out scaling on this laptop with an external monitor.  It’s all kinds of wonky and is throwing me off.  Not that I don’t throw myself off enough.  I miss having hair.  I don’t like looking like a crazed hobo.


Enough of that.  Hi.  Hello.  Konnichiwa.  Buenos dias.  Welcome to 2015.  Stay with me a bit.