the ubiquitous page
The Ubiquitous Page.
This Page is all about me.
     Me!       Me!         Mmeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
I am.
I am
I exist, in this awful, heady, crushing mass of humanity, and this web page is my sole expression of that identity against a howling and infinite void.
This page is
not about you, it is about me, because when you really get right down to it, how can I be sure that you really even exist?
But enough about you, because this page is not even about you, remember?
These people are clearly NOT ME.
What are they doing on my page?
Well, at least there are not many of them.
This is where I live; in the struts and pipework above the Fluorescent Forest. It is a very scary place, where people hang from the rafters and sniff glue, all day long. Sometimes one of them drops. The Box People get them.
This is The Machine That Eats You. It is where the Box People stuff the Ceiling People, when they find them. Do not let them find you! They are forced to make boxes all day, every day, and it has warped them terribly.You are merely a tasty bit of diversion from an eternal hell of Boxmaking, and they will be amused by their cruelty and your suffering for the very short while that you will live thereafter.
That is, if you even exist at all, which, as I said earlier, remains in some doubt.

It's the glue, you know.

next back home