Wet your smelly little face here and then towel it dry quietly as Space Blep Cat's Thought Trumpet empties out all over your back, while you cough and weep and quiver on all fours like the ridiculous worthless plate of spaghetti you are.
YOU COULD BE FULLY REALISED
It is absolutely vital that you are correctly positioned and looking the right way, as you hurtled and spin blindly through the void for a short time. If you do not, it would really be terrible and you might be very silly, esecially if you miss some of the the events that happen to you.
Stare not into the void, lest you miss some of the current egg. In time you will no longer savour the egg, you will be the egg. The egg, the calippo, the forgotten carpet, the hurried morning stool - you will be one. For now you can be outside an egg and be conscious of it.
NEVER THINK MORE THAN SEVEN AND EVERYTHING WILL BE OK / put down the diazepams. The natural state of things is OK but when we process them in our mid-clefticles we turn them to diarrhideas. It can be tempting to think the diarrhideas came from outside, but nay. You churned it up good in your dump chumney you woven bag of symptoms. You shinless catastrophe.
It is great being a separate piece. Or it seems that way. I generally incline towards being a mostly realised separate piece. But I don't really believe that is what our natural state must be. Really we tend towards the bittiness. I sometimes groan when I bend over. The Universe inside me groans, yet my trousers do not quiver; it is not egg-related. It is a pocket of low entropy and will burst slowly like a youthful ambition or an egg under a shoe.
Try to hold on tightly to all your trinkies and your shoes and your discipline it may come in extremely useful when you are all finished and exploded
Now we have been presented with a useful opportunity to stay in one place whilst we ponder our nauseating plummeting descent into nothingness it might be more important than ever to consider the importance of eggs; eggs remind us: ~ to get gas ~ we are the gas ~ gas might not be anyway ~ Gas is a valid experience and as such it validates your existence in this smelly flungel world ~ Although none of this makes sense, neither do you so go eat an egg
We ponder and we quiver on our meandering, spiralling descent. We try not to consider the void as it mirrors that inside us. I AM NOT A VOID! MY SOUL IS FULL UP! WHERE AM I GOING? IS MY SOUL FULL UP?
Being Fully Realised has been lauded and even acclaimed throughout the history of Lauding. We are frequently told from birth not to be half realised, like a Jennifer Aniston film, or a dry weetabix. But actually sometimes it is worth bearing in mind that a dry weetabix in a shoe in much preferable to a wet one.
Remember not to spend too much time practising how to get up again because it is mostly unnecessary, unless you are carrying your weekly eggs, or the ground is very hot, or you can't see. Not being able to see is a bit like eggs actually, because you don't know where you are going or when you will be dead and then you get gas.
Nobody really knows why they have a persistent feeling of terror, because in order to know that we need to know why we aren't dead right now, and nobody really knows that. Unless they are just keeping quiet about it.
Remember to nearly always pretend you know exactly where you are, and where you are floating towards, and WHY. It can be very offputting when you are eating some dinner to think about how everything is just sort of there for no reason, like train timetables, or litter, or yellow.
Let's woooooosh back to the void where we all belong, I've had plenty of eggs I'm OK now. Eggs only last a very short time and as all good heron folk know well, short time divided by infinity = 0. So eggs probably don't exist. Without eggs, I am sure most of the people would prefer a return to the enormous cold void, as that is what life would be without the ovoid delightfuls. Right. fin.
As we quiver and gently anticipate our way to the void, we like to actually think we are looking all the way at the egg, but we aren't really. We are about to look at the egg properly, just in a minute, but for the time being we are busily anticipating and polishing, as we do all the way into the massive massive void. The massive void is like Piers Morgan, it is hideously foul and yet pointless and empty at the same time, but more importantly, completely void of egg.
One day we will spend almost all of our time floating around dead, which is bad because usually none of your ear will work when you die. You won't hear anything at all really! Also you won't have your phone so don't even think about using that, or any kind of ladder-escape type of plan you might have been brewing. HASHTAGS.
if blep? then do we cat? Are we even? Somestime even Space Blep Cat don't know nothing. Nothing really is much anyway, but YOU definitely are. I think.
IT IS FRIDAY, ANOTHER DAY OF FLOATING AROUND POINTLESSLY IN THE GIANT COSMIC ABYSS.
Right now everyone is quite worried about ladders; how good they are, how good they should be, and what they might be worth in a few years. That is great, generally. Ladders are important, and the media is quite hysterical about ladders at the moment, which might seem silly. But if the media didn't be silly about ladders, then ladders might become very uneconomical, or they might become rich ladders that hate poor people. But at the same time they are ladders, which are kind of pointless at the best of times. Don't worry about ladders because they are just as transient and meaningless as the rest of existence. They aren't good, like eggs. Maybe just have a lie down and let your trousers dry whilst you contemplate a good calippo, thanks a lot I love you.
Sometimes you feel a bit silly. Maybe your trouser fell down, or you said something mad, or maybe you mistook your eggs for a new bank statement or a part of a ladder. Either way bad for you. But when you remember that one day you will be dead, and everyone else will be dead, then it doesn't seem as bad to have your trouser fall all of the way down at B&Q that time. Once you stop existing, then maybe you never did, and if you never did then it probably didn't matter that you looked like a proper fully realised spoonless buffoon. Thanks
LIE DOWN ON THE FISHFINGER, in the middle of the gaping chasm. It might be OK. Maybe
AND STILL WE DO THE DUSTING / the rearrangement of matter can be a very interesting/occupying/validating thing for some people, and they should do it more, if it means they don't go 7 out of 11 mad! But for everyone else, it is equally useful/futile to lay on a towel and lick a calippo most of the time (78%). Good day.
Why do we sing and cry as we toil, as toil is inevitable while you are spiralling void-wise
Sometimes even Space Blep Cat notices the turbulence during the noisy hurtling descent into the huge oblivions, but ambivalence is always maintained where possible I think.
Why do we be? If we do. Maybe we do. Seven. But does it mean?
If you have been thinking all the time about the Trump and Brexits and the inexorable rise of Justin Beibers and intensive farming and all of that then try to spend at least 7 or maybe even 8 trying to prove to yourself if anything at all actually exists outside of your eye parts. It is a useful exercise, in as much as anything is useful (apart from calippos and those plastic metal things you use to get hot trays out from under the grill) thx
Why does Blep Space Cat believe in nothing, yet concede everything is likely. Well because everything does
ALWAYS REMEMBER YOU DO EXIST, TRY TO REMEMBER. When it all starts to seem a bit too implausible, like when you worry about quantum fields, or why does Piers Morgan happen, just remember, the Universe is so trouser-wettingly inexorably large that everything probably happens at some point, no matter how pointless, upsetting, or how much of a garrulous squinting simpleton they are, thanks very much bye
HULLO. Blep Space Cat likes to blast into space and get a good view on all the things, to tell how rubbish they all are the end thanks
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Blep Cat floats in space, he sometimes likes to read, and this makes him quoth pointless quothers. Quoths. Quotes. Thanks.
Some things are important: travelling, not eating all of the eggs at once, and always being interesting. But all will be dust - ladders, biscuit, ovens, red. Everything will be chaos and nothing you did will really have meant anything. Listen to Space Bleps yes?
Some things are important: travelling, not eating all of the eggs at once, and always being interesting. But all will be dust - ladders, biscuit, ovens, red. Everything will be chaos and nothing you did will really have meant anything
Today's Blepism might reduce your resilience reducing caterpillars slightly. I hope. EVERYTHING MIGHT NOT BE. Although it might, and you should defs not take my words for it. Because my words might not be EVEN MORE.
Today's Space Blep Cat Truism is here to help you come to terms with your utter pointlessness. EVEN MORE.
Today\'s truthMissile is targeting your silent shouting space and it\'s a corker! Just lie down and remember that you cannot be yourself because yourself does not exist, you are everything and everything is you. Consciousness is a deceit propagated by those who would have you buy their overpriced mattresses. ~~ Accept your place in the cosmos and lie down ~
