Memoirs.

Whilst rifling through my remaining shards of solid memory, I managed to come across one particular little reminder as to just how diluted my life had become.


As getting everything else into order is taking more time than anticipated, consider this a little taster of things to come, hopefully sharing this will spark up a few of your nonexistent appetites as well pump a bit more madness out of myself and into the world.


This is one of the few memories that is more-or-less intact, in both its physical and astral form. Enjoy, nonexistent readers and watchers.

The sand begins to fall.

My story is almost ready to begin its unfolding, nonexistent readers.

Keep in touch, just a few more days and my little expedition into the realms of a mindless vagrant turned humble narrator shall start. The cogs are turning, the sand is falling, the little digital numbers are changing and the sun is crawling its way across the sky.

You will hear from me soon.

My worldly greeting.

So I have decided to bestow upon this world my wonderful little greeting, dear non-readers.

It seems his effects have rubbed off on me. The radiance of him is prevalent in this fine little piece, quelling the aptitude and clarity, perhaps a reflection of my still mangled psyche.

My text on this page is far more literate and readable than the garbled scrawls I still seem unable to rid myself of. For any of you no-one who wish to follow this little embankment of mine, I would not rely too heavily upon my current camera-captured antics. Whilst my words may seem calm, if unstable, my physical being is, sadly, still a mess.

Much like a fire-stained bramble, this burnt thorn has many a way to go before sense starts to crack these distraught walls.

The obligatory introduction.

Hello to all my nonexistent readers.

Some may wonder for what reason a man such as me would insist to post incessantly on this website which will surely never be viewed. The reason, I respond to my lack of audience, is that events of extraordinary or otherwise unusual nature are best recorded and kept for a time when they may be of some use. The purpose of these likely nonsensical ramblings and babble are so that, should a time arise through some horrid misfortune when these rakings from a tattered mind are of the least bit useful or mindful to someone, even if only to look back on a darker era,  then here they shall be.

Perhaps even these ramblings will too become the path for something better, clarity, perhaps. An echelon I have since abandoned all hope of attaining.

Perhaps a cure lies at the end of these ones and zeros, these empty spaces and little pockets of electricity. The only way one can tell is to take the journey in its full.

It seems like so long now since those pitch dark fingers entered my eyes and pressed down altogether too hard into my brain, sending neurons and cells running in terror from such a strange invading force. So long now since the urge to pull a covering over my visage and smash the glass of other abodes, to strike down people I had never known and never would know again. It seems such a long time ago that his touch caressed my inner thoughts. How long has it been? Do you know, my faithful non-listeners? Months? Years? Decades?

I suppose now it matters little as to what has happened and what can only remain unchanged. What is here and now is the dregs of my little incident, his fingerprints still glow infra-black in my mind and what remains of my coherent thoughts are drowned in a tide of delirium, as if that wasn’t clear enough to all you no-one who is reading this.

Don’t worry, unfaithful readers, I’m sure that if this little run of coloured LED’s doesn’t equate into something worth reading, it should be good for a bit of a laugh.

Laughter, there’s something I’ve had a bit too much of in the past, always laughing, giggling, snickering or chuckling at whatever small disaster I was planning to unleash on his behalf.

At very least I should be grateful that I am freed from his burning cold grasp, my work done for him now, so where to? Is there a chance I could redeem my previous grasp on the real and non-real? I suppose only time will tell, time and several other things that I won’t mention yet, where’s the fun in spoiling surprises?

My name is Jason Thorne, and yes, the jokes about international conspiracies and spies have long since been made at my expense, do not tread that now-compacted dirt again, you’re impressing nobody.

For now, dear no-one, I bid you farewell, perhaps I shall return when the day is out and spread a little more of my pre-harvested madness upon your nonexistent eyeballs.