In Retrospect

The whole idea where I was going to update this thing daily somewhat fell hard on its face, quite hard.
So to make it up to you, my loyal viewer, I will preform a quaint little song and dance routine.

Or instead I could entertain you with these cool facts.
ICE BLOCKS WERE ONCE MADE OF WATER!

SAVE ME!

D:



On another note:
BAM!



Enjoy.

And so it begins.

In an effort to stop me going insane I have compiled all my aspirations into a small metaphorical ball to present to you in daily form my recent going ons. This outlet will prove useful when I decide to become a criminal mastermind and need to air my grievances of the world as well as goad my inevitable arch nemesis.
"But wait!" I hear you cry due to the small camera I have placed in your room, "Isn't that the whole point of  a blog? Haven't you been doing this all along anyway."
Oh hahahahahaha! I reply in a jolly fashion. Don't be so naive child, have you not read my previous entries and if not then why are you complaining about the change of direction this blog is changing if you have not invested any interest into it already?
You really are shallow and immature. Shame on you.

So while straightening my tie and feeling smugly superior I carry on.

With my parents in Singapore and my sister somewhere in America, I have acquired the house all to myself for the next few weeks. Already, after 12 long hours in solitude I have started to notice some side effects to my isolation. The fourth finger on my right hand has swollen up a tiny bit and my apathy has increased marginally by a factor of 2%. I put both of these symptoms down to the lack of communication with the outside world, leaving me in a very much 'out of the loop' state of mind.
Without other human beings around me to try to spark up conversations I have grown weary of the day to day musings of life as life itself has no meaning. What is the point of my pitiful existence if it has no impact on the outside world? And how am I possibly going to measure my worth as a human being if I cannot interact with the outside world to determine my overall impact.
As such even musing about the meaningless of life has no meaning as I have no way to verify my claim that life is meaningless.
They say the first 12 hours is the hardest. Personally I would like to meet this 'they'. They have said a lot of things in the past which I have not been happy about, often with no references or data. This group of people who call themselves 'they' should be more closely monitored as they could spark up civil interest and unrest according to this latest study that I read somewhere.
Being out of the loop is an unnatural feeling. Has a war started in Korea yet? Have we discovered a new source of fuel to quiet the masses? What has happened to Oprah?
OH TELL ME WHAT OPRAH DID!? LIKE! WHAT DID SHE EAT FOR LUNCH!? I NEED TO KNOW!

So anyway, 12 hours down of my self inflicted solitude and only 350 odd left to go.

The Lonesome Knight!

The knight was young for the straggle moose

Not a day over thirty five

So I wonder why it let him loose

Why it let the brave knight survive?

Some speculate that the moon did help

The rather dashing young man

By raising the tides and sending in kelp

To distract the moose while he ran

Others say the moose took pity

Of the knight, all bound up tight

For it did snatch him from the city

And let me tell you it was quite a sight

There the knight was playing poker

With his horse along as well

He was out of chips, bet his super soaker

With a kidney he could sell.

The cards were flopped the hands were queried

His opponent raised some Sauce

Reluctantly the knight quite wearied

Offered up his horse

But his horse said “Neigh!” and cantered off

Leaving the knight alone

The cards were shown, he was at a loss

He admitted he got pwned.

His opponent then, unsheaving a knife

Demanded the other kidney

The knight objected “I need that for life!

Of your presence you shall rid me!”

A brawl was started, the knight but one

The others had a plenty

With their numbers they did overcome

One knight is no match for twenty

Broken and maimed the knight hobbled out

Into the bustling city

He hit a cart, stepped on a lout

The resulting case was not pretty

Alas the knight was overcome

By the lout and his friends they

Did pummel the knight who was but one

The thugs were a plenty

The knight was setting a course for home

when he did trip over his son

He helped him up, “Why you’re all alone”

Then he saw what the son had done

His arms were slashed, his liver missing

The son did rise “from the east

They came with swords and snakes a hissing

They said they needed a feast”

The knight rose up while his son sat down

The situation was bad he deduced

The last thing he saw before blacking out with a frown

Were the horns of a lone straggle moose.

Thus ends the tale of the Lonesome Knight

Even though there are some loose ends

The bad guys were captured their wounds were healed

And Everybody made amends

Except for the straggle moose

It  is of course on the loose

Hunting down maidens
Playing some raiden

Which is quite a feat if you have hoofs. 

Two Peanuts

Breaking his 2 month long silence our Author pauses and deliberates what to write about next.
Pen poised and mind at the ready he slowly inches his way over to the lever of inspiration which he must pry free with the stick of hard work unleashing it from the cruel harsh grips of laziness.

And thus he writes:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
Bobby was not your ordinary peanut, oh no. Bobby was what you would refer to as a special nut.
You see Bobby was different from all the other peanuts. While the other peanuts would play their special peanut games with each other Bobby would be excluded and shunned from the group.
It barely bothered Bobby, or at least that is what he told himself. It gave him more time to himself, it gave him more time to think.
Bobby liked to think.

"A bright lad, bright lad", Mr Hersworth, Bobby's algebra teacher would say of Bobby while puffing on his pipe, "A tad bit quiet though, and a little bit...special".
"Oh yes, I would say he is extremely bright, although he is also a very strange boy, very special." Was how Mrs Tennytot would describe Bobby.
Though the truth was that all the teachers at Little Peanutington Elementary were a tiny bit afraid of young Bobby. Bobby intimidated them, they gave them the willies.
He would always sit upright and pay attention to whatever they said, adsorbing all their words. He was like a sponge, no a vacuum, sucking in everything into his little peanut head.
You see Bobby listened and that was the most unnerving thing about him. Bobby listened to everything.
Bobby liked to listen.

It was sixth period and the school day was nearing a close. The minute hand was slowly meandering towards the number twelve and all of Bobby's classmates were restless with the seemingly endless possibilities that stretch from the long hours of three until dinner...


I WILL CONTINUE THIS AT A LATER DATE!
BUT NOW! DONKEY KONG COUNTRY RETURNS BECKONS!