Sunday, February 12, 2012

Bullshit from beneath the printer

Chelsea thought that we could try cleaning up the house. She thought it might help me stop thinking about all this shit. I got the computer room, of course, since I spend a good bit of time here now.

I found something while cleaning. Under the fucking printer. Not sure why it was there, not sure I want to know what was going through my head when I put it there, but it was there. Perfectly hidden under my printer...

Seriously, did I think I'd be able to FIND it there? Who hides shit under the PRINTER?

I'm still a bit put-off by the thought that I once had the idea to hide something under the goddamn printer. Anyway, putting it up here, since you guys seem to be at least partially interested in this shit.

And the back side:

At first glance, I see those symbols again, and some examples of why I work over the telephone. Also, I can see that my handwriting seems to degrade into the incoherent scribbling that covered the papers I had when I passed out.

Too tired now to even bother with these. I might come back later and offer a translation, if you need it.


  1. Interesting language you have here. Not just in this post but all over the blog. It'd be unremarkable if it weren't so familiar. You said you lived in the Midwest? Perhaps I should take a trip back there when I get the time.

    I think I'll be keeping in touch, Mr. Blake.

    - Have a Nice Day

    1. And I thought I had the most ominous name here.

    2. That's ominous. Who are you?

      Blake, can you translate the first page if possible? The second one seems to explain that these three or so more beings don't want you to write about them. Honestly, I hope you continue to--in any form. Fuck them, indeed.

  2. Such beautiful songs, indeed. They sing of death... makes me wonder why they don't want you writing it. A warning to your future self, maybe?