Surrealist Journal Surrealist Journal

Entry II, 1/30/26 8:19 AM - 8:59 AM

"Automatic writing"

At any point the paragraph ends, I ran out of steam and broke out of the state of automatic writing.

It was on this very day that he killed it, but he will never admit to any wrongdoing. A villain he is, but a creation of god will be smited in his favour. Freedom is a very valuable thing to him, even though he would like to take it from another. The very presense of the book is changing the way he thinks completely. ANother thing that happpened was the death of a brother to the sister in the family. The family the family was very unkind to his ways, but the rest of them were okay. The goodness of evil was very absolute, but they always decide to get rid of it. In this state of chess, the game becomes virtually unplayable due to the blue box that restricts access.. When I commented on the film, he told me to d o it. That being said, if you want to find teh general, every food is made of something. The time itself surrounding us is quite tight, but the way I respond to it is rather improper. The ice is rock, there is a layer of rock plaguing our city. The rock is an undesirable enemy in the workforce, but a strike can surely bring him down. Gathering the colours, I brough a message to the robot in my froom. A glove was given to me in order to tell me the time on the battery, but I begin to lost sight of the valuable lessons given to us. The lava begins to spill from the beasts ears, and the statue of liberty falls down. IT's a complete disaster in the highlands. I was navigating a local mesa, very fr away from home, only to discover the red green and blue beast that plagues my sleep. Where there only has to be one window, there are three, divided into squares that are even more divided, technically making a total of nine. The way this feels to eat a bird is not exactly what I'd call pleasant, but it gets the job done. A capsule full of sand gets in the way of the astronaut, who says "Hi". It was his idea, I know it! It was, it is, and it always will be! There is a little cat, about the size of a turtle, that is standing in front of a blue man. The blue man towers over the cactus, which is being towered over by a white ghoul. But does the colour of his skin matter? By no means does it matter! He just happens to be a mushroom, standing in front of an electronic tree. A pumpkin rolls up a hill, something not to be seen every day. For this reason, the tortoise jumps out of his shell in order to slay the beast. But he cannot pass the squid in silver clothing, for his bowtie is simply too big! A bird gets in the way of his

Bleauep! Bleaup! Bleaup! Bleaup! I am a machine with the longest of necks, I reach to the top of the hill. Wheels won't be necessary, but my back certainly will. A cartridge full of fun is placed upon a shaking tree, and it falls, revealing that it is made of... ANTS! They scurry about and the red robot spins his head faster than a boy eating his meal full of coins. A skull, that of a human, stells me that it is not a human, and who am I to disagree? After all, the droors in my room do not show any sign of the dead, but I do show sins of the living. Mechanical whirring is heard in the ceiling, but there is nothing above me. Why does this keep happening? He answers to me, "Worry not, little one. I am a squid, and from my eye I can see just how tall you are." He is the same man I saw on an

The tiles in a Roman bathhouse make me wonder, how many denarii did it cost? He responds to me with a thoughtful, condescending grin, "Not enough to kill the gray man. I knod, and I show him a dance from another culture. The green-nosed dinosaur is looking at me quite funny, although I don't quite know how to describe his eyes. Another little dark beast, some sort of feline, has the hair of

In order to truly defeat this thought process, I must be quick. I must grab the controller, and look at the sky. "How was it?" he asks. Of course, who am I to tell a lie about this thing? The little boxes were stacked upon each other, painted a coppery green, degrated with meat. Red, red, red l, red, but was it really? The colours are really violent, but I don't believe in such things, I wave a banner of peace and love. The cheese was growing moldy by this time, and I had already gone further into the past. The pluperfect tense had been very inconspicuous up until this point, in which I could tell it apart from the perfect. Nothing is simpler than my presense on this fence. His face painted orange, he asked me about a bird. I told him it didn't belong to him, but he did not listen, and took it for himself. The habits of his speech make me nauseous, as he's always playing a disgusting, one-dimentional character. The lack of human interaction with him drives me nearly mad, and I just want to smack him with some sense. Of course, not all things that have sense are senseful. When the machine broke, I was about seven. I found this to be the most irritating experience over the past ten minutes at least. I paused my speech in order to hear a member of the audience: I have put myself on a lower pedestal in order to give a sense of equality, everyone has a chance to speak, it's not just my rally. But in this rally, I began to think about the juice of the batteries. Why does he look like that? Green, red, orange, all the colours. All of them are within his teeth, as he chews a disgusting concoction of things. The sugar is rotting my eyes, and I'm not even the one seeing it. The salt is

But why does hair matter? I could be bald, at least from head to toe, perhaps even further if they would let me. After all, effect

Another attempt at the wall, to hit the paintings down. I go to museums, and I see cultures of old, my own book, hanging about! It makes me so very excited to see my own book honoured in such a way, even if it is for any entirely fictional culture that does not appeal to the real world. The star hangs high, and its meaning hangs higher: on top of the tower, the emblem tells me of the Emperors meals, he ate a bagel. But the red cube doesn't stop me from passing into a home. I walk into the bathhouse, and I look at the intriquite designs on the floor. One is a squid, the other is a man in silver. They intrigue me so much, I want to be one of them. I want to wear a splendid toga, I want to bathe among them, I would like to eat their meals. I

The internet is a large platform, in which I have found countless archives that keep me from doing important research. Instead, I find myself reading about the anarchist of old, even if I don't agree with them. I like opinions, I am a democratic person. The opinion of an individual is the most valuable thing there is, and I like seeing it happen in a stable way. For this reason, I support democracy on a scale never seen before. The blue man with a face like mine walks to me. He is about 6 foot 6, and he speaks in tongues. I don't know why he does this, he's just a scab

I value the fruits of my labour, and when I dig a hole, I dig a hole for the greater good. When a mole-man tells me"This is not how it is done!", I give him quite a piece of my mind. I show him all the things I know that he does not, and I show him exactly where to find this. He shakes my hand, and the pink orb is now gum. I hate gum, and I always will, it sounds disgusting, and it smells of silver shirts. I do not know whay he wears it, but he always wears it, every time I look at him. His slick looking, fake hair, his hazely brown eyes, and this silly grin on his face. He looks like a teacher, but he is actually Pee-Wee Herman, and he sits about. He tells me of the orange fence, in which I am able to jump. I tell him no, that he must stay focused on better things. However, he told me that digging a hole is the best way I can support democracy and counter the vile representatives of today. I grab a disc, and I break it in order to make way for more discs. The pencil is reconstrutable by nature, although I'm not quite sure if I've ever used it. The way that they sit in a row, one golden, is so desirable to look at. There are many things agreeable about this space, until I see the face of Socrates. Ugh, Socrates. Let me tell you how much I HATE Socrates. The blue, orange, hreen, red, blue, blellow, bleen, ,

GRROORANGGEEE. Let me tell you about my new colours, grorange. It looks more like a sound, but it sounds more like a feel. The way I look at it in the light is not the same as how I look at it in the sink. The pieces of the house are all in the wrong spots! For why did she do this, why did she move the table? She goes to work, she comes home, and every day she moves the table! I wish I could be more like her, god forbid I be like him. But does the gender really matter? While I find myself leaning towards the "He" gender, I've come to realize that there's no reason for us to even label people by their gender. I think it is growing outdated each day that passes, as we are all humans in a human world together. Why can't people get along? I love the world, and I love the squids that inhabit the tiles on the floors of the bathhouse. But how many denarii did it cost? Time may never tell. I was walking to the

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Entry I, 1/29/26 10:09 AM - 10:58 AM

Hello, Olchar! I'm not quite sure how I'm supposed to do this, so correct me if I do it wrong.

A floor without friction that walks on your shoes.

A problem in which actions taken only achieve greater instability.

The thoughts of a libertarian economist.

His king is unfaithful, he takes matters into his own hands.

The victim of the gentry.

Always cheated, his world is stolen.

The gambler.

He only sees value in times where value is lost.

A hopeful soul, stubborn against fate.

A man walks into a dining hall, defiant about the menu presented to him. No matter what they tell him, he sternly believes they have eggs.

An undesirable customer.

A consumer who does not consume, a shopper with no money.

The one who rations.

His cabinets are full, his dressers have clothes. He laughs at the idea of interacting with these objects.

The gold is stacked high in reserve, its doors closed in good times, with its doors open in bad times.

Carried by "carrots", its value is only subjective, yet held to an arbitrary standard. A wall is built to keep you from reaping its value.

An orange cone holds up the entire structure: the structure is composed of imaginary bricks of yellow, and you are not welcome in.

A fundamental shape bears the weight of the others. They will not respond to you.

A speechless concept.

It has many words if you can comprehend it.

A language that can be learned only by those who find value in it.

His project is entirely composed of passion.

Most hobbies walk, but on this scale they run.

It's as if the activities themselves grow legs when they get larger.

Confederations requires participants to be meaningful.

The greater the magnitude of Napoleons puppet, the more successful is his agenda.

Responding to the bully strengthens his impact.

A conversation in which the voice is the weakest tool.

Your words are by no means equivalent to a pickaxe.

A miner doesn't have to dig for your rocks, even if you would like them to.

They only humour your mind.

Should they listen, it wouldn't be on your conditions.

He leads the dance, you simply must follow.

A social pyramid organized by the contribution of each dancer.

A structure built of performers.

Their parts are the sediment that forms a shape.

A shape of rock, and a rock of soul.

A plank will always be a plank, even if it is a member of a greater institution.

The wood is used to build a shelf, the shelf is wooden.

The lumberjack and the carpenter held the hands of their creation.

The contribution of the many produces a product.