Science!

Tuesday, July 12 

Ongoing Analysis: Grave Moss 

Monday, June 27

Analysis:  Peacebloom 

8:00    Boxxie and I are hungry again. The three flowers we ate an hour ago have had no positive effect. She wants to bake the flowers-- she says that's what Mom used to do. 

8:30    We went down to the steam engine to try and cook the flowers. Boxxie has a good set of tongs that we used to hold the flowers up next to the coals. Most of the flowers just turned into ash and landed on the coals. The smoke keeps filling up the boiler room. It's really funny, but I don't know why. 

+++Memory Leak Detected+++

Data Corruption

            Extent: High

The mind is a burrow, a collection-nest of arachnid horror spinning strands that catch thought like honey'd flies, storing sweet moment to be suckled on in times of lean or wanting. Thick-knotted web, woven by coiling in a spindle-like manner, lead from the crown of our reasoning, tensed along spine to slip into limb. We are marionettes to alien and unwelcome puppetteers working their loom of predestination. The control we exert over ourselves is merely cosmetic in the grander scheme of the great design. Have you noticed, as I have, this higher cage to inhibit our freedom?