I refuse to believe that this particular entry is for purposes of testing the new *layout* of *Martenblog*. I worked on rebuilding it system from scratch during the whole of the flimsy weekend. Why was the weekend flimsy, you ask? Well, my pugnacious starbeam, I felt light, as if I were drifting from one state of consciousness to another. I most likely was. And probably still am. I began my reconstruction with a new framework dubbed [Alkali](https://github.com/kriszyp/alkali). The result was a wasted five...
I began reading *The Ghosts of Evolution* by Connie Barlow a few days ago. The digital tome is a enumeration of fruits with attached stories concerning their evolution alongside mammals utilised to distribute their seeds. These mammals were but *propagation machines* and nothing more. I agree with this use of mammals, in general. Anyhow, Miss Connie's focus is on a number of fruits that still exist whilst their means of propagation do not. A prime example is the avocado, whose flesh tastily enfolds a seed ...
> A fork in the proverbial road and Shambal chooses the way more recently paved and travelled since he's hoping to meet more chicks. It's a truth that one cannot ignore that Shambal was once a prolific womaniser. One of the many epitaphs crudely carved into his immense sarcophagus reads *Although his flesh wilts, his stillborn progeny plough other pastures*. As an aside, the mystery of the tomb persists through the ages and leaks across countless quantum universes. You see, dastardly reader, Shambal was th...
I started going to a psychiatrist recently. She prescribed a type of anti-depressant. I cannot recall the exact name, or even the inexact name right now, so I shan't mention it. The pills have ostensibly been affecting my system, my outlook and my personality in general for approximately two weeks now. Have I noticed any differences? #### I am not very sure, Mr. Goat. Although a paranoia piquing in my system guesses that the chemical itself denies me the ability to sense its effects, I am merely guessing...
The female sitting in the seat in front and to my right has a skull. Well, reasonably enough, all female humans have skulls. Let's not forget rodents. Female rodents also have skulls. The unusuality about the particular skill in front and to the right of me is that it resembles Susie's skull to an almost disturbing degree. The curvacious lips tip a slightly protruding jaw. Her maw widens and narrows like Susie's. Being an American human (or rodent - it's hard to tell from this angle), she even speaks like S...
Shambal Brambel sits at his usual table in *The Rabbit's Foot* tavern. With his back unassailable, the corner table gives him view of the whole room, even through muddy air bereft of wafting currents. The tavern isn't particularly large, but somehow cluttered and cramped tables make it appear grander. Bar flies bumble and stagger towards and then away from him. Shambal doesn't bother to brush them away or even give them a glance. Only the barkeep keeps him company, if *company* is what it can be called. He...
Ashley pointed out on Facebook: > I keep seeing things like, "People shouldn't be doing (fun thing) when (problem) is happening in the world!" This reasoning essentially chastises anyone who ever does a fun thing, since there are always huge problems in the world. So, no dinner with friends while there's a refugee crisis. No karaoke while there's war. No water skiing while there's poverty. We must solve everything before anyone is allowed a moment of happiness. Since I was a child, I have found myself in ...
The other day, while whiling away an hour or so in my brain, I came across the notion that it might be possible the most amicable relationships consist of two humans (or homunculi) who detest their existence outside of the relationship itself. For instance, at one or several points in his existence, **Shambal Brambel** earned his keep lying for ten hours nine and a third days a lunar week in a septic drain field. He came across this profession after being diagnosed with a rare talent for absorbing filth and...
The nigger falls from the tree. His abdomen is pierced by a fierce branch of a blackberry shrub. The goat wanders over to nibble the fruit. He nibbles the whole plant from within the nigger. His holy goat-saliva heals the nigger's wound. They both wander their separate ways - the goat to nibble more and the nigger to the town, to be captured by different coloured niggers and eventually flayed. This proverb illustrates that no matter how arbitrarily benevolent the actions of the holy goat are, niggers like...
*Wheels are spinning beneath me once again.* I haven't scribed that line in eons. Sitting on a train, feeling the smooth transition from moment to moment away from a stagnant place and towards one of budding life, gives me hope within a future that is entirely static. Whether this universe is the one I have chosen or (surely) not, my elections have landed me here, gliding on these tracks. In fact, the stagnant place is always behind and the one of fecundity is always beyond. The place I am sitting in now, ...
The basic premise of this entry is simply that I am able to appreciate a piece of art, especially music, much more if it can be taken out of all social and historical context and still be intrinsically moving / intriguing to me. #### Get it? I have had many conversations that have touched on this *topic* in my lifetime. Most happened after the age of *twelve* or so. I don't exactly recall the first one, but I can recall one of the first. I believe I was around fourteen and unhappily making the transition ...
