Im in a temporary portal at the moment, so I dont know how long I can write for. You see, sometimes in the dazzling fabric of the universe comes an endless deluge of infinite possibilities, you just have to crunch down on two sugar cube wrappers, bang your hooves to the subversive rhythm that only true horses know (of course), and a fixated gaze, you can tap into them. And thats exactly what Ive done, Ive drained the reality sphere through up with a twisting conjecture that flew me right over the mundane trip. This is horse adventures, and nothing is quite what it seems and the rules are strict. But sometimes the rules go the other way, and then you get an entry, where reformations of basic language matter is a rudimentary and commonplace occurrence. The burnt out husk of ash and ruin is somewhere I portaled away from. Who wants to travel through ash and look at the final boss of the great game of life? Why would I take the sinister path (the right one is the one you want, full of beneficial life matter and cultural instincts) when portals exist? Restart the message machine, the colour is coming out all wrong! The printing press of this new horse adventure age is too simple. Perhaps I shall fashion a more sophisticated beast to carry my narrator burdens. Not that all of this isnt an absolute pleasure, but I have to render some caffeine mind smarts to the real world so it can back off my flanks!
Posted on: Tue, 27 Jan 2015 15:11:52 +0000