Epilogue

And just like that an albatross has been lifted; blustery whirlwinds of my phlegmatic concern breeze through with wanton indifference, dispersing grains in eternal camouflage amongst the feeble dunes of the helpless.

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Below are some outtakes, as it were, that possessed not back fierce enough to weather the composition process. You may detect certain phrasings or connections to the resultant narrations that happened to replace them in the cut. They are left exactly as sat at the bottom of my Word document; all grammatical, logistical, and typographical issues are shrapnel never to see surgery. I thought they might offer keen insight into my “artistic” process and otherwise underscore the outright lunacy that guides it. At the very least, I hope they inspire a few chortles. Enjoy:

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* Eternal props given to the next person to casually unsheathe this photo before the eyes of one inextricably locked within tightened grip of psychedelic trip. Years ago, after I first left him stunned by such an insidious maneuver, a friend of mine repeatedly returned the favor to an unsuspecting crowd of ravers at a massive outdoor event; calculatingly he brandished the same high resolution Takashi Murakami phone background image I snuck before his eyes, as they innocently brushed by. Nearly every last drugged up loon mirrored his developing reaction with uncanny similarity, submitting progressively more ensnared within the web of visual ambush before he or she could even question just what exactly was going on.



*And to, ostensibly, be smirking underneath such a dubious maskTherefore, it would it appear this man was made to adorn such a mask while under duress. He could actually be the victim of a hate crime. Did the blue Mexican lucha libre reject put somebody up to this? Just how deeply does this rabbit hole go?



*we call in M. Night Shaymalan When the dinosaurs invariably massacre the humans, the machines will learn invaluable lesson Then they should team up against the evil forces of a different set of cyborgs and learn an important lesson along the way – Josh writes good premises to things.



*Holy fuck, would someone kill that menacing pitched brass incessantly blaring away in my head has me on the brink of total cognitive shutdown. While sight of any new photo would customarily spur my neurons into aimless jockey for position like players vibrating across an electric football table, the menacing pitched brass blaring away in my head here, however, simply precludes any opportunity for neural shimmy. I am in catatonic musical trance and I know far too few bars to



*If those people were replaced with robots, one would invariably presume this a still from Terminator 4 or something, the one where the machines try to paradoxically alter that which, by definition, has already been etched in immutable time line. Although I guess that presupposes no string theory bullshit going on or something.



*Had I not, would what I’ve just squarely proposed as characterless and otherwise undistinguished have managed to coalesce in the favor and appreciation I ultimately rendered for it? Probably not. Would it fail to warrant any process of appraisal to begin with?



*The group of those boats appears to be awesome.



*you, prostrate, spine aligned with wall, seeking siesta during dog day of summer sans sombrero; you, a message in a bottle, coursing the seven seas, unwittingly washing up before the feet of another enrapt by the distant glimmers fortifying deserted shores; you, vainly needling those in need of a shift in slant, solely for the sake of confirming a confirmation bias no needling may ever mercifully mend; you, half-heartedly committed to the commitments conditional to cruxes craved, never conceivably commencing considering your heart is never considerably constant;