(a few months ago)

The Paradox Machine - first of several, unedited (this one though has a lot of ommissions) and unplugged, stupid but enjoyable, rough and still unfinished

1 - The Sponge

My mind is a sponge - not as spongy as before but still more absorbent than your average. It is responsible for this machine I call my body. It is the root cause, the main protagonist of a series of cause and effect relationships in a domino process that produces the clicking sounds that emanate from the keys on a board deliberately and accurately punched by my fingers that results in an electronic representation of letters on a 14-inch colored vacuum tube-powered monitor I have at my face. (Whew!) It is the god of my loins, though popular belief or certain radical feminists would assume otherwise. It is the power that coordinates hundreds of muscles from the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes to effect a thrusting and pulling action that is required to liberate these loins, so to speak, and many other prerequisites for a healthy and exciting life.

And as with any other sponge, it absorbs. It absorbs things, ideas, opinions, colors, sizes, shapes, temperatures, pressures, volumes, densities and so on and so forth in any units of measurement and in any of the languages I'm familiar with. It is the grandfather of all sponges if ever there was one. It's like one of those blue super-absorbent "as-seen-on-TV" mops enthusiastically promoted by that guy so popular for his tacky knit sweaters. Infomercials as we call them. It is a dripping sponge. It drips endlessly. Out come thoughts and opinions of my own. Created, devised, and molded from anything and everything that it has absorbed. It is hardly original.

2 - The Original Sin

The very first mistake I was ever a part of began approximately 270 days before I first saw light. It most probably took place at night, lasting but a few minutes amid moans and growls and black silence. A mistake that resulted in a dream date of sorts between a long-tailed and very ecstatic sperm cell and a particularly picky egg cell. One that would soon split and then split some more until it reaches such a stage when it would weigh as much as seven pounds and begin to have the urge to breathe the air, see the sun and, possibly, make mistakes of its own.