Kevynn Can Mend A Broken Heart When He Gets All The Pieces…

Sometimes…when I approach a person, I don’t know whether to stab them or to hug them. Sometimes, I’ll hug them first and then stab them – but I’d rather stab a person after a good, long hug any day.


"Since light travels faster than sound, is that why some people appear bright until you speak to them?" -Steven Wright

Clementine Kruczynski...



Today at work, I asked a table if they wanted fresh ground pepper.

The man said, "Give me three turns."

So I spun myself in a circle three times.

When I was finished, they all just looked at me.

So I left.

Hitler Mouse...

The Walt Disney Company is blocking its Miramax Films division from distributing Michael Moore's documentary "Fahrenheit 911," which criticizes President Bush, according to a statement on Moore's Web site.
The film is highly critical of Bush's handling of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks and his actions leading up the attacks.
"I would have hoped by now that I would be able to put my work out to the public without having to experience the profound censorship obstacles I often seem to encounter," Moore wrote in the statement.
Miramax spokesman Matthew Hiltzik did not immediately return calls for comment Wednesday. Disney spokesman John Spelich also did not return calls early Wednesday.

Moore attributes Disney's decision to concerns that the documentary will endanger tax breaks the company receives from Florida and anger Bush's brother, Florida Gov. Jeb Bush.
Disney has a contractual agreement with Miramax principals Bob and Harvey Weinstein allowing it to prevent the company from distributing films under certain circumstances, such as an NC-17 rating, according to The New York Times, which first reported the story.

"Some people may be afraid of this movie because of what it will show," Moore wrote. "But there's nothing they can do about it now because it's done, it's awesome, and if I have anything to say about it, you'll see it this summer — because, after all, it is a free country."

The often confrontational director won an Oscar for his 2002 documentary "Bowling for Columbine," about the Columbine High School shooting and U.S. gun control policy. He's also known for the 1989 film "Roger & Me," which explored the effects of General Motors on his hometown of Flint, Mich. "Fahrenheit 911" will be one of 18 films in competition next week at the Cannes Film Festival, Moore wrote.

She Looks Out The Portal At Solaris.

RHEYA
Is it a planet?

KELVIN
Not exactly. It exists in a
continuum that wasn't proven until
ten years ago, a higher
mathematical dimension superimposed
on top of the Universe. An
infinite number of them, in fact.
It was a violation of all of our
various laws regarding the
Universe, Space, or Space-Time. It
was completely counter-intuitive.
We had to unlearn everything.

RHEYA
Is it intelligent?

KELVIN
Intelligent beyond our
comprehension.

RHEYA
Then it's God, right?

KELVIN
It's something.

RHEYA
You still don't believe in God?

KELVIN
The whole idea of God was dreamed
up by a silly animal with a small
brain called Man. Even the limits
we put on it are human limits. It
can do this, it can do that! It
designs, it creates!

RHEYA
Even a God that wasn't active, that
just created something and stood
back and watched?

KELVIN
You're talking about a man in a
white beard again. You're
ascribing human characteristics to
something that isn't human. Human
beings look for causes and
patterns. How could we know what
Solaris is up to, if anything?

A beat.

RHEYA
But what if Solaris is what there
was before The Big Bang?

KELVIN
As I said, it is beyond our
comprehension.

RHEYA
As I said, then it's God, right?



I was going to write about my trip to Austin– but then erased the beginning of it because I don’t know how I can fit most of the highlights in and because I’m a very lazy guy. I had something funny to say anyway, but now I’ve forgotten it.

I did see the biggest goldfish that I’ve ever seen. AND I also watched a dog hump a keg. I tried to take pictures of a little kid with a mullet, but his mom was watching so I didn’t get any spectacular pics. I drank constantly.

With the mullet kid.

So, I Leave For A Week...

And I come back to NO new comments and an Internet virus.

Lick it.

Stone Cold...



I leave for Austin tomorrow morning. Maybe I'll write less, maybe I won't. Maybe I don't really care much. It's hotter here in THE OC than in Austin. That's kind of strange. usually it's the other way around for me. Yes, I said THE OC. I'm gonna pull a Paris Hilton and trade in my comfy life. I'm ready to milk some cows. Give me your tired, your weary, your cow manure. I'm tired. I should go to bed. I need to forget to pack things.

This is why I need to get away...

Writing like this...

There Must Be An Unwritten Rule...

That the more keys a man has jingling from his belt...

The creepier he is...

Uncle Rhesus Monkey...

I wish that when people talked about Hip Hop - they were actually talking about people that were hip, and hopped around a lot. Maybe, like, cool bunnies. All Little Bunny Foo Foo - but without the violent bopping of the heads.

Regarding Chewbacca's Inability To Speak Human And His Deep Feelings Toward Han Solo...



He would've said to Princess Leia, " Bitch! The man is mine!"

I think that Chewy would be the ultimate sexual partner because he functions as both a lover AND a blanket.

Not A Cool Title...

If I was an addict trying to score illegal substances at a party,
I'd bring along a K9 drug-sniffing dog.

Genius.

Friday, February 28, 2003...

Bamboo Plants...

My name is Kevynn Malone. I am 5' 11' and a half inches tall. I weigh 138 lbs. My hair is dark brown. I have one brown eye and one light brown eye. My hair is short. I have a scar on my eyebrow from Ian punching me in a drunken fight club night. I have a scar on my nose from throwing it through the glass on a front door. I broke my wrist playing football in fifth grade. I have bad knees. I play Bass guitar. I draw one picture every three months. I write everyday. I am horrible at paying bills. Children like me. I have too many friends. I have too many enemies. All of my friends are talented and insane. I barely drive. I hate freeways. I like to read. None of my family lives in California. I have a girlfriend and two cats. My father used to work for a secret branch of the government. My mother is very short and could drink you under the table. She's a fucking scrapper in a fight. My father is shy. I am not. I sing a lot out loud. I used to skateboard a lot. I like comic books again. I want to be a movie star. I want my screenplays published. I did meet one of the studio heads from MGM yesterday, though. I want to be a Calvin Klein model. I like to buy action figures. Tonight I am going to Jen's house, then I am going to see Tony and Tom play at a bar. Tomorrow I am going to the library. Sunday? I don't know. I am looking forward to Kevynn Malone Day on March 5th. I encourage all to AIM me. We can all hook up that talky-to-talky option on it and drink together. I don't drink anything else but Bud Light. I'm a puss. I don't like to get in trouble anymore. I like to be awake when I drink. I should be getting ready right now, but I'm not. I'm talking to you and singing to Soul To Squeeze by Red hot Chili Peppers.........


I am happy. Mostly. I won't complain. I'm trying. Maybe not hard enough. I need to ignore you more and concentarte on all of the movie and book shit that I attribute 4% of my time to. I taught my girlfriend's niece all about Pez today. I gave her a really cool one today. We ate candy and filled all of mine up. I broke one. But it was a stupid one, so who cares. I need to hook up my photo scanner. I need to get business cards printed. I can dance, but don't. Much. I don't have a Play Station. I have a cool backyard. My neighbors are my friends. I buried my old cat in the backyard. I am friends with an eighty year old man. My youngest friend is four. I am twenty-seven. I believe aliens have visited Earth but don't believe in any of your gods. I don't like to watch wrestling. I like basketball and nothing else. I am unorganized. I think a lot. I wave to planes and helicopters. I don't like to kill ants, but will punch you in the face if you piss me off. I have to remind myself to breathe deep. I am more apt to look up or down than left/right or forward. I don't have a cell phone. I carry around a Moleskin in my back, left pocket. I hate coffee. I smoke. I have Buddy Holly-type glasses, but I need new ones. I paid three hundred glasses for these four years ago. I think I got my moneys worth....My vision isn't horrible. I am nearsighted. I eat a lot of salads. I hate sharks. I like monkeys.


I'll be back soon, nigga...

ENOUGH. The Sovereign Of Asgard Has Greater Tasks To Attend Than The Subjugation Of One ALREADY Brought So Low. Take Him To The Dungeons, And Let Asgard's NEW Age Begin Forthwith...



Living life through the gray area. I see my reflection on the computer screen. It looks blurry and dark. I'll try to change it, to adjust it and to give the picture more clarity.

I spit hard outside before I came in here, trying to get rid of the excess that was in my system. A Buddhist mantra also came to my lips – but I cut it short. No matter how beautiful it is to cultivate peace and meditation – it still takes action and a little physical force to move things. If I can cut the roots of a heavy tree, because it’s blocking my way - then I’ll try real hard to move the damn thing. Even if it makes me more tired than I am now.

Now I don’t see my reflection. The page that I’m typing on is a blinding white. I’m trying to darken it with my words. To blend it into something...in-between. Grey. Then, after I’m done. When I’m ready, I’m going to turn this damn thing off.

Let it go black...

They Might Be Wil Wheaton…



Went to see They Might Be Giants on Friday. Thanks to Cartoon Pig for the tickets. It was at the House Of Blues in Anaheim. I’ve never been to this one – only the one out in L.A. I like the layout of the L.A. one better, but this one was nice and simple. Cool in my book. Nice and simple always works for me. Concert venues, stores, diffusing bombs…stuff like that.

I met Wil Wheaton at the bar. I noticed the T-Shirt that he bought first, actually. I thought to myself, “smart guy”. None of that waiting in line crud after the show. Then I noticed that he looked like my friend, Brandon, then I noticed that he looked like Wil Wheaton, then I noticed that he was Wil Wheaton. I introduced myself, and then later, introduced him to my girlfriend. He was a very nice guy. Not that ever expected him not to be. We talked for a bit about writing and whatnot. He had just finished his book that day. Good for him. I’ll buy it. I like his writing. I tried not to bend his ear too much, even though I had a million geeky questions about small press publishing, writing habits, influences, comic books, voice agents, role-playing, and Warhammer 40k. The show was about to start, Cartoon Pig was already inside and a $4.50 Bud Light can of beer was calling my name. That might be the first time that I’ve actually met a real, published writer. Ray Bradbury was speaking at the library right down the street from my house years ago, but I couldn’t get tickets. I talk to myself a lot – but I don’t count because I’m a hack and wouldn’t want to ask myself anything anyway because I’m rude, condescending and always have food in my teeth.

On Saturday, I played poker with some friends and ended up splitting the pot. I dug myself out of a hole and ended up with $180. Not too shabby. Maybe I’ll email Mr. Wheaton and invite him for some poker, beers and geek talk if he’s ever in my neck of the woods. I don’t think that we live that far from each other. One famous geek, one not. I’m not the famous one – but I will take his money. Ha.

Sunday, I worked fourteen hours straight.

Today…I wrote this.

The end.

Stop It. C'mon, You Can Do It...

Someone has found Fat Free Milk through Google about a hundred times in the last couple of days by typing in Obsessive Compulsive disorder. Dude. Get help. And give me a dollar. You must. Seriously.

They Might Be Giants...



Tonight.
Drinks.
Geeks.
No fights.
Well, maybe - y' never know.
But how much harm can a geek do with a slide ruler?
Shit.
Maybe a lot.

A Testimonial From My Friend Baxter...

"When he has his first book published in a format that requires a barcode on the back jacket, I will undoubtedly add the title to my favorite books list. I would also like to point out that Kevynn is an early example of what happens when our troops go to a foreign country for no reason, get their ass kicked and f*ck the natives. We should be seeing more recent (and hairier) examples in about nine months."

Droopy...

I love flat tires after you get off of work.

I'm SO horny about them.

John Wayne Was A Prick...



Big, tall racist, cowboy ass. All of his movies are outdated and worthless now anyway. Tell us how you really feel, Bub? Props to his son for selling his image out on those old Coors Light commercials too. I used to think that his offspring sucked for doing that - just like Fred Astaire's too - but when you think about it. They were both pricks probably and the kids needed the money to pay for therapy. No. That's not fair. Yes. Yes, it is. I really don't know about Fred, but John Wayne was a crap head. Now, Robert Mitchum...THAT'S a real fucking cowboy.

I have no idea why I started writing about this.

You and me both.

And Spellcheck.

No More Reading About Star Wars Stuff For Me...

I mean...even my nerds are growing nerds.

What?

I don't know either.

Pay No Attention To The Man Behind The Curtain...



Thank you to The Jesus Bunny for giving me the day off on Sunday. No bartending for me, folks – so that meant serving drinks to myself. Which is cool, but not as financially lucrative. So it goes.

I bought fourteen dollars worth of Halibut that nobody ate. Joe bought enough steak to feed an army – which everybody later ate. Played poker, and then ended up getting drunk with Tony and taking pictures into the wee hours of the night. Gay. Yes. But fun.



I've reached an all time low.
My pic's on the internet.
Might as well log on to a Star Trek message board now...

The Grand Ennui...

kvn: how ya been, punk?
boz: that's not a sweater thats a bondage vest
kvn: ha.
boz: I'm good, I'm always good
kvn: Cool. Im half-crazy. The same.
boz: so tell me about this donnie darko fetish you have, is there a book, cause the movie really sucked
kvn: Half-Viet, half-Irish, half-insane.
kvn: Dude. So original. So much a better piece of writing than half of the shit out there.
kvn: Not the best - but original, at least.
boz: figured there had to be a book, because the movie really didn't answer anything
kvn: You remind me of Frank - the bunny.
boz: I thought I reminded you of the roberta scurvy
kvn: No. No book. recommend a movie to me then, bubba
kvn: nothing funny
boz: have you seen Frida?
kvn: comedies are boring
kvn: BERT?
kvn: no. but i heard it was good.
boz: Frida with salma hayek
boz: yeah, real good, about an artist not reaching her potential, sort of like someone I know
kvn: Generally movies about painters suck, though...Stealing Picasso...Bisquik, Pollack...
boz: this had sex in it
kvn: Dude. They made a movie about somebody that reminded you of yo - I mean...The Hard Artist? wow.
kvn: jk. Hard kicks butt.
kvn: sex is good.
boz: I wasn't thinking about Hard
boz: I was thinking about someone who used to sleep with him
kvn: I'm getting kind of bored with the internet and writing on it - can you tell?
kvn: I know you didnt mean Hard. ha.
boz: funny thing though, the less you write the more comments you get
boz: I know you know I didn't mean Hard, I just wanted another chance to tell people that you used to sleep with him
kvn: Crap. Seriously, nobody comes around as much anymore. I used to get crazy amounts of people - but now it's a slow trickle...
kvn: Don't care too much though.
boz: ebb and flow, you have to go with the ebb and flow
kvn: Fuck. I just wrote something and it didnt go.
boz: on the zonk?
kvn: I know. I love it more than hate it. I just want to leave the internet as NOT my only sorce of writing. I want to get back to my old school productive ways again. Y' know. Pen. Paper. No distractions other than the ones with lungs andd telephones.
kvn: my fault. not the zonks. spelling? my fault. not god's.
kvn: sorce?
boz: can't you write on the computer, that's the way stephen king does it
kvn: Shit. He's a madman. And a REAL writer, not a hack like me. And even though he's brilliant - he's got buck teeth and an ugly wife...so that must make it easier to write. No distractions. Socially or romantically.
kvn: That was harsh, Stephen - my gog. Writing muse. I apologize.
boz: gog?
kvn: god, i meant. I feel bad.
kvn: That was horrible of me to say.
boz: it was, and his wife reads my blog
kvn: Even though Bukowski was ugly, Hemingway was fat, and Kerouac ended up marrying his fat, ol' mom.
kvn: Damn. There I go again.
kvn: I'm sorry.
kvn: And they were all alcoholics too.
boz: you think mariel hemingway is fat?
kvn: Damn. Again.
kvn: MAriel Hemingway has King's teeth.

Cartoon Pig Radio Mention...



Props to the man for my radio show mention.
Much love to the cow that died to feed my belly.
Thanks to Jesus for doing...whatever he did.

I enjoy not working on Sunday, bloody guy.

Gundark...

Gonna pull your ears off...

Soon...

Uneven Bedford Blazer...

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ãیÑی ÇåæÇÒ ˜å ä?æ. ÝæÔ ãی Ïی ¿ Êیã ãæ Ñæ ãی ÎæÇی ÈÒäی ¿! Çیä یÚäی ?ÇیÇä ÒäÏ?ی ÏÑ ÚÔیÑå æ یÚäی Çیä˜å ÍÊی Ç?Ñ äÇÕÑ ÍÌÇÒی åã ÈÇÔی ÈÚÏ ی˜ ÝÕá ÏÑ ãیÑی ! ãیÇی ÂÈÇÏÇä ÈÏÊÑ ãی Ôå ˜å ÈåÊÑ äãی Ôå. ÈÇÈÇ یÇÑæ ÇæãÏå ãÓÇÈÞå ÈÏå ÈÇ ÂÌÑ ãی Òää Êæ ãÎÔ ÈÚÏã ãی ÎäÏäÏ ÈåÔ ãی ?ä : ÊåÑæä åãیäÌæÑی ˜ÑÏیä¡ ãÇ ÏÇÑیã ãی ˜äیã !
ی˜ی äیÓÊ È?å ÈäÏå ÎÏÇ ÊåÑæä ÊãÇÔÇ?ÑÇÔ ÌÑÇÊ äÏÇÑä ÇÒ ÊÝÍÕ ÇÓÝá ÇáÓÇÝáیä ÊÑیä äÞÇØ ÈÏäÔæä ÇÓÊÇÏیæã ÈیÇä !! ÈÚÏ Êæ ãی?ی Êæ ÊåÑæä ?äیä æ ?äÇä ˜ÑÏäÏ.
ÎáÇÕå ãیÇی ÇÒ ÏÑ ÇÑæãیå ÈÑی Êæ ی˜ ÏÝÚå ی˜ی ãی ?ÑÓå : äÌæÑ Óä ¿! ãی ãæäی ?ی È?ی ¿ È?ã ÎæÈã ˜å ÈáÇیی Èå ÓÑã ãیÇÑä ˜å ÈÑã Ïی?å ÈÑ ä?ÑÏã ! È?ã ÈÏã ãی?ä Çیäã ÇÒ ÝÇãیáÇی . . . . !! ?Ó ÈåÊÑå È?ã ÇÒ ÝÏÇÑÓیæä äÇÔäæÇیÇä ÂãÏã æ äãی Ôäæã.
ÇÒ ?یáÇä æ ãÇÒäÏÑÇä ˜å åã ÈåÊÑå ÏÑ ÍæÒå ÈÇÊáÇÞ ÍÑÝ ÈÒäیã. Êیæ? æ ØäÇÝ æ ãیá ?Ñ?ã ÇÓÊÇÏیæã åã ?Çåی ˜ÝÇÝ ÛÑÞ ÔÏä Ñæ äãی Ïå ! ÍÇáÇ ÈÈیäیÏ ?å ÈÓÇØیå !
ÎæÈ ! æÞÊی Èå ÓÑ ÊÇ ?Çی Çیä æÑÒÔ ?äÏ ãیáیÇÑÏی ˜å ÇäÏÇÒå ?یÓÊ ÌåÇäی ÝÑãæá ی˜ ÈÍÑیä ÇÑÒÔ äÏÇÑÏ¡ æáی ÇäÏÇÒå Ïå ÊÇ ˜ÔæÑ ÂÓیÇیی ( ãÚáæã äیÓÊ ?å ÌæÑی ) ãÏÇá ãی ÂæÑÏ æ åãیÔå åã ÈÇ ÔÇÎ æ Ôæäå ÎæÏãæä æ Êæ åãå ?یÒ ÞåÑãÇä ãی Ïæäیã¡ ?å ãی ÔæÏ ?ÝÊ ¿ ãی ÊæÇä ÔÑÇیØ ãÓÇÚÏ ?یÏÇ ˜ÑÏ !
یÇÏã äãی Ñå æÞÊی ÂÑی åÇä ÈÑÇی ÊÕÏی ?ÓÊ ÓÑãÑÈی?Ñی Êیã ãáی Èå ÇیÑÇä ÂãÏ ÈÇ æÇäÊ ?ی˜Çä ãÏá 49 ˜å ÏÑåÇیÔ ÎÑÇÈ ÈæÏ ÏÑ ÒãÓÊÇä ÈÎÇÑی äÏÇÔÊ æ ی˜ ?ی˜ äی˜ی ÈÑÇی ?Ñã ˜ÑÏäÔ ÏÑ ÒیÑ ?Çی ÑÇääÏå ÊÚÈیå ÔÏå ÈæÏ. ÈÑÏäÔ ÓÑ ÊãÑیä¡ äÔæäÏäÔ ?ÔÊ ãیÒ ÍáÈی ÏÑæیÔ !! ÈÚÏã Ìáæی ?ÔãÔ ?Çی ǘÈÑ یæÓÝی ˜å Èå یæÓÝی ÊÑǘÊæÑ ãÚÑæÝ ÈæÏ¡ ÏÑ ی˜ی ÇÒ ÕÏ ?Çáå Òãیä ÔãÇÑå 2 ˜å ?Çی ÈÒ ÊæÔ ?ی? ãی ÎæÑå¡ ÎæÑÏ æ Îǘ ÔیÑ ÔÏ. ÈÚÏã ÈÑÇی ?ÐیÑÇیی ی˜ ÔیÔå äæÔÇÈå Óå ÈÇÑ Ïåäی ÔÏå Ñæ ?ÐÇÔÊä ÌáæÔ! ÇÒ ÒæÑ ÝÔÇÑ ÔÈ åãæä ÑæÒ ÇÓåÇá ?ÑÝÊ æ ÈåÇäå ˜ÑÏ ÏÓÊ ?ÓÑã Ô˜ÓÊå æ ÏãÔ ?ÐÇÔÊ Ñæی ˜æáÔ æ ÝÑÇÑ ˜ÑÏ. ÍÇáÇ ÊæÞÚ ?ی ÏÇÑیã ¿! ÏæÈÇÑå åãæä ÈÓÇØ ÏÑ Çیä Ïæ ÓÇáå ÑÇå ÇÝÊÇÏå ÇÓÊ æ ˜ÇÑی ÇÒ ˜Óی ÈÑäãی ÂیÏ ÈÏÊÑ Çیä ˜å ÈÇÒåã ÓÇá ÞÈá Çáã?ی˜ !
Çی ÈÑ Çیä ÔÇäÓ áÚäÊ ! ÈÇÒã ÓÇá ÞÈá ÇÒ Çáã?ی˜.
ÇÕáÇ ?æیی ˜Óی ˜ÇÑی Èå ÌÇÈÑ ÓÇáã æ æÖÚیÊ ãÈåã æی ÏÑ Çáã?ی˜ ÈÑÇی ÑÞÇÈÊ ÈÇ ÑÖÇÒÇÏå äÏÇÑÏ¡ ?æیی ʘæÇäÏæ æ ˜ÇÑÇÊå æ ˜ÔÊی äÈÇیÏ ãÏÇá È?یÑäÏ æ ÇáÈÊå ˜å ÍÐÝ ÔÏä ÇÒ ÏÇیÑå ÍÖæÑ ÏÑ ÝæÊÈÇá Çáã?ی˜ ÝÇÌÚå äیÓÊ. ?æä æÞÊی ãی ÊæÇäیã ÏÑ Òãیä Îǘی åÇی ?æÏ ÔåÑÒÇÏ ÊیÛی ÈÇ È?å åÇی ˜یÇä ÔåÑ ÝæÊÈÇá ÒÏ¡ Èی˜ÇÑیã ÈÑیã Çáã?ی˜ !
ÂäæÞÊ È?å åÇی Êیã ãáی ÑÇ Èå åÒÇÑ ?äÇå ãی äÏÇÒیã ! ÂÎå ãی ?ä یæäÇä ÇÒ ÞÇäæä ÍÏÇÞá áÈÇÓ ( ÔãÇ ÈÎæÇäیÏ Bikini) ÊÇÈÚیÊ äãی ˜äÏ æ ÎáÇیÞ ãی ÊæÇääÏ ãËá ÂÛÇÒ ÚÕÑ ÒäÏ?ی ÈÔÑ Ñæی Òãیä Îǘی ÇÓÊÑی?¡ ÇÓÊÑی? ÏÑ Òãیä æ åæÇ ÑÇå ÈÑæäÏ.
ÍÇáÇ ÔãÇ ÈÇÔی یå ãÔÈ ÈÇÒی˜ä ÚÐÈ æ ãی ÈÑی Çáã?ی˜ ˜å Ïæ Êی˜å æ ی˜ Êی˜å æ ÇÕáÇ Èی Êی˜å ÈÈیääÏ ! äå ÏÇÔã ÇیäÌæÑی äãی Ôå¡ ÍÐÝ ÔÏیã ÚیÈی äÏÇÑå ÝÇÌÚå äیÓÊ. åÑ ˜ی ÇÒ ÎæäÔ ãی Ôیäå ÝæÊÈÇá ãی Èیäå. åÑ ˜ی åã ÍÑÝ ÏÇÑå ÂÏÑÓ ããÏی ãæÌæÏ ÇÓÊ ÈÑå ˜Ê˜Ô æ ÈÎæÑå äæäÔ ÈÏå ÏÓÊÔ ÈیÇÏ ÓÑ ÒäÏ?یÔ ! Óی ?ی ÇÕáÇ Çیä ãÑÏãæ ÍÑÝ ãی Òää ! ÝæÊÈÇáæ یÚäی ?ی ¿!
ÇãÇ ÚیÈ äÏÇÑå Çی ÌãÇÚÊ ÓÇÏå ÈÒäیÏ Êæ ÓÑ åã ÂÌÑ ÎæÑÏ ˜äیÏ Êæ ãáÇÌ æ åã ÊæÕیå È?یÑیÏ ÈÑÇی åÑ ˜ÇÑی æ åÑ ÈÇÑی !
æáی åی? ˜ÇÑی äÏÇÔÊå ÈÇÔیÏ ˜å ãÊæáی Çیä åã ÈÏÈÎÊی æ ÈÒä ÈÒä ˜یå æ ?ÑÇ ÊÇ Ïæ ÓÇá ÞÈá Çیä ÞÏÑ æÑÒÔ ãÇ ÎÑ Êæ ÎÑ äÈæÏ ! ÇáÈÊå ÈáÇ äÓÈÊ ÂÏã åÇ. æáی ÈÇæÑ ˜äیÏ Çیä æÑÒÔ ÇÒ ÏæÑ Ïá ãی ÈÑå ÇÒ äÒÏی˜ Òåáå ! ÂÎå ã?å ãی Ôå Êæ Ïæ ÓÇá ÈáÇیی Èå ÓÑ Çیä æÑÒÔ ÈیÇÏ ˜å åãå Èå Ìæä åã ÈیÇÝÊäÏ. åãå ?یÒ Ñæ ÈÝÑæÔäÏ æ ی˜ ÏÓÊå ÂÏã Èی ÎÇÕیÊ ÈÇ ÈåÇäå ÓÑãÇیå ?ÐÇÑی ÔÎÕی æÇã åÇی ˜áÇä Èå ÌیÈ ÈÒääÏ æ ÈÑæäÏ ÏäÈÇá ÚÔÞ æ ÍÇáÔÇä! ÈÇÈÇ ÌÇä ÂÎÑ ÚÇÞÈÊ Çیä ˜ÇÑåÇ äÇÈæÏی æÑÒÔ ÊäåÇ ÓÑ?Ñãی ÓÇÏå Çیä åãå ÌæÇä æ äæÌæÇä ÇÓÊ¡ Êæ Ñæ ÎÏÇ ÍæÇÓÊæä æ ÌãÚ ˜äیÏ !
?æá Çیä ÈÇÒی åÇ Ñæ äÎæÑیÏ. ?ÑÇ ÇÞæÇã ãÎÊáÝ Èå Ìæä åã ÇÝÊÇÏä ¿ ãÇ åãå ÇیÑÇäی åÓÊیã æ ÞáÈãæä ÈÑÇی æØäãæä ãی Ø?Ï ! ?Ó ÈÇÒی?å ˜ÓÇäی ÑÇ äÎæÑیã ˜å ͘ã ÌÇäی ÏÇáÑ ÈÑÇی æÑÒÔ ÇیÑÇä ÏÇÑäÏ !! ÈåæÔ ÈÇÔیã !

There Are A Million Things...

That I can say about this right now.
But no man, no matter how verbose -
Can properly explain it.

Enjoy?