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Your Drugs are Too Legal, Snowflake

Lynae: Oh no one of the Kratom capsules was incense kratom
Lynae: The last one I took
Lynae: I can feel it writhing inside
Lynae: Torturing me with its evil

Orin: You need to take them with like 8oz of water

Lynae: I am
Lynae: But this tea is so cooooooold brrrrrrr

Orin: That has nothing to do with it being infected with incense smell, and has everything to do with it being a extremely flavorful substance inside a very sticky capsule

Lynae: Hypothermia is setting in

Orin: That happens to me every time I don’t drink it with enough liquid

Lynae: No I smelled it my body is rejecting it
Lynae: It says DO NOT WANT

Orin: Can you just skip to acceptance https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kübler-Ross model of grief
Orin: Or you could just skip to stage five, barfing
Orin: jeezus this is why there’s no ayahuasca for you
Orin: the shaman is all “maybe just some nice homemade apple cider for this little muffin”
Orin: fucking liberal snowflakes, no tolerance for the kind of drugs taken by real men
Orin: in my day, drug tolerance was something we avoided with titration to get ourselves at the minimum viable feelgood vibes quotient, because drugs were expensive, and we wanted to save enough for later. we took the drugs home in a little doggie box. that’s what we called it too. and you know what? $0.06/capsule, no wonder you’re having trouble. you can’t appreciate how much the damn things costs to smuggle on a high-powered speedboat up someone’s ass (just to be extra safe), because your drugs are too legal.
Orin: fucking communist dirtbag poloshirt-wearing rubbing-broken-glass-on-you-genitals newswanker
Orin: you probably read on Facebook that it was bad for you and now you’re going to go vegan because hot dogs are made from discarded pig vaginas
Orin: well I got news for you, bra-burner, the pigs aren’t using them anymore and it’s not gonna bring them back if you stop wrapping those luscious lips around America’s juiciest footlongs
Orin: Amyway, duck Trunp

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(via Matt Mullenweg)

Bedeviled, human,
your plight, in waking,
is to choose from the words
that even now sleep on your tongue,
and to know that tangled among them
and terribly new
is the sentence that could change your life.

from “The Meadow” by Marie Howe

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Hello world!

Somewhere along the bumpy road of life I made a wrong turn and ended up in a metaphor, and so on that day a new and strange repository of words was born on the side of that road

and you, dear reader, ended up reading my poorly-thought-out dedication marker located just beyond the accident-scarred collision barrier of that road

and now you’re thinking about how safely you drive your own metaphors

but it’s ok — because when metaphors crash, they don’t crash like airplanes, they crash like couches

YES, THIS IS THE ACTUAL FIRST POST OF ORI.NZ

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i guess its a fucken poem

One day this li’l #screenie
coulda illustrated for people’s kids-kids
how 2016 servitors (who weren’t even widely called that yet),
(even disparagingly),
(even ironically),
& who while relatively quite dumb,
weren’t not the cleverest blunt tools in a big ol’ messy computery-magic drawer…
[new line]
Especially since dude,
is this important information
…just this now?
do you really want me to get up again?
I mean this is my job,
whatever,
it’s cool.
#ChillStonerJobStrongAI
[new line]
But robo-brains in the future
usually don’t usually do
what you expect them to
either
[new line][ellipsis][stop recognizing speech] [horizontal rule]


HashtagSchmashtag’s Ghetto:
#codeispoetry #poetryiscode

#pagingDoctorWho #DoctorWhoCantReadTheirOwnHandwriting

#meatbrains
#mindmeeters
#metermades
#modalities
#nonOverlappingMagesteria

I Count one two thr333 sockpuppets of infinity who are making this, hah, ah, AH, cough #hashtag

#hypersigil
#iguessitsafuckinpoem


Source: Instagram photo by Orin Zebest • Oct 30, 2016 at 3:55 AM

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Eh.

Eh.

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Mixed Metaphors

I’ve never been a bettin’ man, but if I was I’d hedge my bets in ma’ own favor.

For the day draws nigh when I shall set upon the world a sight which it hast never before borne witness to, a site whose time hast come, a site so unlike any other it can be called by naught but its own name: WordGlot.
Thou shalt see. All of thou.

Indeed, I can practically see the classes begin to file in, sense the navigation gain direction, while the floating divs become more bouyant and springy along with the nonsensical metaphors.

Launch in t-minus… 5… 4… 3…
uhh, could we start back from 100, Curtis? I was just being a smartass and killing time between work.