This is only a drill.

No need to get into the fallout shelter just yet.

I've got a cobra working on my juggler.
I think she loves me.
I thinks she loves loves me to death.

Paying Hommage to the Twilight Zone

Unbeknownst to me last week as I was torrenting season one of the Twilight Zone, an auspicious event was upon the world. Today marks the 50th anniversary of the Twilight Zone; a cinematic series of stories that take a deep dive into the human psyche. The episodes play to the subdued recesses and deep lunar crevices of the pinkish mass that leads us away from the sing-song of temporal existence. Therefore, the viewer, or voyeur, gets their popcorn treat into a peak of the Zone that takes one into the extreme life matter that cannot be understood, and just perhaps, should never be. Thrilling? No. More like being enthralled by a spider's web that's been missed by a thorough cleaning. And so, we, pull up a chair and peek through the Zone's window and think...
and think...What does it all mean overall- this hoopla OVER a person's travels through the physical and mental; both consciously and subconsciously as we, the one, are seeming actors existing in a life, in a time and place, that's not uniquely our own. With each instinctual move our hands are at play. Though it may be the toss of the proverbial coin, or a laying of of the cards, it's most likely the end to a culmination of a series of events that have transpired over the course of the actions taken knowingly or unwittingly on our watch. As gargoyles do as they must, the finality of everything that ever was is the realization that one can never know what everything is, has been, or ever will be. And that to me is...