-Feanor.Net :: Deeper Magic from the Dawn of Time-

Are thoroughly enormous accounts, horrendously overdue, and nearly impossible to produce because life is being a big dick about everything. Which is to say, it's becoming quite complex, probably rewarding, and always, most definitely, intriguing to and beyond the margins. Or even the maximums. Should one write about everything when it may impact the prearranged flow of fate and the stream of spiritual expectations as governed by This Earth. I just can't know.

Many hilarious events have, without question, come to pass. My sister refused a joint shower session with me over the holidays specifically on the account that "Her Back Was Acting Up"... for instance... which isn't exactly the bridge to normaltowne, but neither is Mamabear(tm) spewing Tiger Woods (v) Santa jokes(jokes)((jokes))... of course I overrode her "He Only Had Three Hos" punchline with my own classy brainchild "Because Santa Only Comes Once A Year"... that's very, very nice. Nobody really understands me, aside from three to maybe eight people. And by eight I mean four.

As the panties of the afterlife would desire it, entire yards of snow destroyed some gaydar-infused Nassau infestation.. thingy. And then, a phantom storm of frozen rain shifted around travel plans for most of us agri-spawn. That's FARMERBABES to you. But, just like a boomerang trade-up in Zelda III, I've received some sort of a volcano jewel hunt in return. Romancing the Scone(FETA CHEESE PLS), you could say. Well, the little one is problematic and increasingly worthwhile. Wouldn't it behoove one to remind oneself what was happening at or around the Beginning Times. Probably; or just maybe, it could be a warrant for imminent chaos. When you know what you want, you know what you want, whether you're Isla Fisher, Christopher Walken, or even me. Humans are difficult, though. My baby-pup is easier to grasp, most days. Physically, I mean. Psychologically I don't have a damn clue what he's dealing with.

What I think I've just done is refused to discuss the issue. Well, it's in the basement, at least its things are. That's where they are kept(STREWN ABOUT IN A TORNADIC FASHION). I got a freaking Before the Before Time translucent boy-gaming device from it. And that's not even a billionth as worthwhile as this laminated slip of paper that allegedly transforms it into a Rikku-avatar at mine earliest convenience. Sadly, I intend on hanging onto that for many weeks, months, years, or lifetimes, whatever span is required so that I might proudly present said glorious fastpass to my replacement.

"...Hey Tommy, turns out I have this document here that summons up a Korean girl, apparently yours, and she has to look like this picture here... I'm flexible but... before the next Olympics, aight?.."

Is that coming up. Interesting.
Let us attempt to stay alive long enough.

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