Vague Insanty 068

I know this isn't how life is really supposed to be playing out. I usually am not in the business of creating new things. I once tried to build a car engine and, at the end, I had one dead cat, three burnt down garages and so many physical and emotional scars that people called me "That Weird Dude" and occasionally threw bread in my direction.

And so here I am, walking like a lizard, trying to work out the best strategy to stay sane and maybe eat a few warm, soft, cookies on the way. But ultimately I feel that one day I will be unable to avoid responsibility and actually end up producing something.

And then what do I do? I can go the whole Frankenstein route of damning and shunning my creation, and then have it chase me through arctic wastes, and the whole thing would end up in some sort of twisted morality tale involving corpses and electricity.

Or I could try to embrace it and sing songs to it, and it will end up like me, totally insane, probably with a strange view on politics and religion and maybe, just possibly, an awkward love for processed cheese products.

I have no idea what I am getting into. But it looks like I have no choice.

The van has come, the nets are ready, I think it's time to get invisible.