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Another’s fluid voice marked its braille on my torpidscraller’s journal. A strange mind made its invasive way into the safest part of my expression, violating my sense of safetey, and so, my freedom to express myself confidently and without judgement. Maybe everything you read from now on will be biased to avoid revealing too many details about myself, just because he was reading. And writing.

In the united states, i discovered, you can get a 2nd bachelor’s degree, after your first, in just a year or two. They dont’ make you take a real full degree. You just have to take a couple new courses, and you can use all your old courses, which you graduated with, AGAIN. Why not just give someone 5 bachelor’s degrees the first time around if you’re giving them away without any work the 2nd time? The point of a bachelor’s degree is to spend 4 years working. Not to get a couple courses that teach you about german history, but to LAST for 4 years. a 2nd degree in under 4 years is cheating.

Visionary Leader Brian Orser once’s wrote of a child being like a tunic. He was right. I realizd this now as I dangled from the talon of a fully grown Daniel-Dave-Hawk, the Brian of the Bradhawk family. A confused panic clung serpentine around my cortical bulbs, reeling through the air and unsure of where I was headed. There was no escaping the vast claw. Try as I might, i could not budgie my way out (get it?). Instead, like a turtle without shelves, I gave in and let the beast take me where he would.

I realize now that I have moved too far ahead in the story without giving you, my eventual torpidscraller reader, any crucial details on the array and nature of the plumbing that was encased in these strange and alien walls. THough this was not my familiar home, I did manage to ferret out a great deal of tidbits of useful information about the plumbing.

Writhing in explanatory torments, my cramped dwelling all crowded with loquacious horrors, i endured the meandering, almost wife-like, explanation of what task i was to perform and how that task related to the moon. Ah the moon, white mooney circular moonly moon. When bemooned, the man dreameth. Or so the bards constantly shouted from the bard-drome.

Transfixed were my eyes as I, all agog, impregnated my patience with all of my will. The Ixtx were slow to complete even the most transitory of thoughts, meaning that the majority of their sentiments were vastly outdated by the time they were expressed.

The year of Mal’kabir’s second magnateship, Celbris the 94th.

As the river of sun’s blood pours over the grains of hunk-rice, the rice that makes us handsome, I lay there sleeping, writing this journal with the torpidscraller, retrieved from the Axol tempest in last year’s adventure. Torpid though i lay, supine in my attitude, I clearly envisaged a dark eye, blinking in a swiling void of lightless horror. That eye. What could it mean?