Aug. 9th, 2001

rinue: (Default)
There are people trying to kill me.

This is not, on the surface, terribly different from the normal run of things. In my day to day affairs, I assume that (a) everyone else is certifiably insane and quite likely to kill me by accident, and (b) everyone else is a highly-trained federal agent with specific orders to kill me. I term this approach "defensive driving."

However, things have gotten markedly worse. For example, a man I'd never seen tried to attack me yesterday with a metal squeedgie. Cars on the road have tried to herd me into bad neighborhoods. Large mobs of children have roved the street at odd hours of the night, howling at the moon.

As if that weren't enough, time and space are distorting even more than usual. Yesterday, drove in a straight line and yet somehow transcribed a circle. I tried again, and it took me forty minutes to cover a ten minute stretch of road.

Patrick suggests that I've managed to become more dense. I've always been denser than average of course, but now it's increased even further. This seems to explain everything, including my sudden and inexplicable attractiveness.

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rinue

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