||[Mar. 28th, 2015|08:35 am]
R. Scott Shanks, Jr.
I believe that the erratic and wind-blown path I paddled yesterday, with the pauses at various stations to perform ritual cursing as I fought to escape eddies produced by bridge footings, may have been interpreted as the passage through a mystic and wet labyrinth. A strange, dark sign was thus produced.
The mute-staccato gestures I expressed while achieving the dock without letting gravity and flowing water have their way with me appear to have served as the occult kinesics needed to draw the attention of Entities from Beyond.
I realize now, far too late to help, that when I ate a cold bean burrito in a puddle on the dock I was acting in the role of the hideous presence that had been partially summoned. My consumption of the wet tortilla sacrifice pulled It through fully.
I have unwittingly brought an Acidosis Fiend into the world, with its foul entourage of lactic acid imps.
I apologize. Do not chastise me for my part in the sore-muscle apocalypse; I promise you, I am experiencing penance for what I have done.
Crossposted from Epinephrine & Sophistry