I'm the mad scientist over here, the wordsmith, the inventor, the
tinkerer, the conjuror. Exploring the out and out wasteland range, the
hidden fields of new gold growth, new groom growth seeded by UFOs,
ceded by UFOs to a diffident, nonplussed populace of human beings. The
UFOs come over at night, and leave messages etched in the frozen dew. I
sneak out first thing and give them a read, I do.

Active feedstock for the bacterial cultures of the mind. the bacteria
of the millennium. Years grow from ennucleated microbes. The years
today are years that were spawned by fissioned mutosis in ages long
past. they slumbered in the rocks of this planet until sporing into the
air. the spores ultimately matured, settled out of the sky and became
the first of January.

Time is just one long worm with everything inside of it. That's why we
don't know we're in it. Time is a vast intestine nudging us along with
one contraction per second, and we just don't even feel it. But our own
intestines know the score. Nudging us alone nudely toward...what goal?
Well, what's at the end of an intestine? Our destiny: to be ejected
from the rectum of time.