Jon Furniss

Readership is starting to drop off again… I wonder if it has anything to do with my incessant ability not to update often enough?

Sorry about that, I’ll try to change that soon.

But right now, I’ve got other things on my mind.

I should play with Legos more.

I should work less.

I should pay more attention to school.

And I should have some sense of where I’m going and what I’m planning.

I’ll get right on that.

Or probably not, since I suck at doing, well, just about anything.

Okay, pause.

(Be happy, be happy, be happy, be happy.)

Okay, life is good. It’s really better than it has been in a long time.

I am happy. Right now I’m just a little bit less happy.

But I am happy.

Yes.

I am happy.

I want to write a poem that doesn’t need an explanation beside it.
I want the poem to be so profound that it just makes sense, but cannot be explained.
It would probably be something like “Everything is something.”
But that’s too easy. So it wouldn’t be that.
It would incite discussion, but noone would know what to say.
It would be short and endless, modern and timeless, confusing and straightforward.
It wouldn’t make a word of sense unless you were high and I’d write it while I was sober.
It wouldn’t make sense, but it wouldn’t make no sense, it might make nonsense, but you could call it incense.
i’d like to think that this poem has something to do with something, and everything, and nothing, and noone, and everyone, and someone, and you and me, and probably sex, because that’s an important part of everything.
You know, pleasure, and babies, and such.
But it’s not like watching plants grow, and flowers bloom, or bees stings, or birds fly, although those are all anologies used to talk about something that doesn’t usually cause quite as much awkward as it did in the past. Oh well.
But flowers are still beautiful, and birds are still amazing, and bees still kill me if they sting me. Oh well to that too.
You see, I’m not someone who has something to say, but I am someone who knows how to say it.
I also often repeat myself, because I’m sure I’ve said that before.
I can also take quite a bit of time to say what I don’t have to say, since I do know how to say it, sometimes somewhat eloquently off the tip of your tongue like a young gazelle running from a young lion in the Sahara, but this is the one that they don’t show on the discovery channel because this one got away, and well, we all like happy endings, but we only seem to want to see violence and death, and that sort of shit.
See, I can curse when I write because I don’t have any reason not to, shit felt right there so I wrote it right there, and now it’s written there because I could write there.
That’s what we like to call a play on words, with homonyms, but I did it far too awkwardly to make it worth while with too many extra connectors connecting the extras making it make some sense.
Just like that again.
But you see, I like how it sounds, when words flow, and you know, that I am slow, because the rhymes are cheap, and the sickening combinations of syllables, similar sounds and alliteration, are just my way to the destination to catch your ear for just long enough for you to hear that I don’t really have anything to say.
I don’t know what I believe in or why I believe in it.
I could be a robot, but I don’t know that either.
How do I know that I exist?
I don’t. But you know that I exist.
And I know that you exist.
Therefore if you exist, and you know that I exist, I must exist.
But that doesn’t really make sense if you think about it, because you could just be a figment of my imagination, except that in that case then I would exist and you wouldn’t. Or maybe I’m a figment of your imagination, but I therefore then only exist and your mind, and still do exist at least somewhat, and maybe schizophrenic people aren’t really crazy and those other people that they actually talk to do exist, and we’re all crazy, but I guess that’s what you follow the crowd because you don’t want to be mocked, and I’m really the only one here, but I’m so afraid of what all you people that I’ve made up think of me that I easily get lost trying to impress you.
I impress imaginary people. Or I don’t.
Am I impressive?
Are you not entertained?
Am I a gladiator?
I think not, but that would be pretty badass, no?
See, questions like these I don’t always mean to be rhetorical, but they never get answered and since they are unanswered they go from being just unanswered to rhetorical, because if you ask a question long enough and often enough and it still doesn’t get answered time after time after time, it goes from being a question that doesn’t get answered to a question that isn’t supposed to be answered, so then they make up a word for that definition, and boom, rhetorical questions are in business, pulling in a nickel ever time you say rhetorical(TM).
And I don’t look like a duck.
If you think that I do look like a duck please raise your hands.
All those with your hands raised look silly, so go get your eyes checked.
And with the eye check, get an IQ test, and then they’ll tell you that you’re smarter than me. Because I’ve never been tested, so therefore the results to my IQ test don’t exist, so therefore my IQ doesn’t exist, so my IQ is then zero, a number which means, “you don’t exist,” so whatever you score is it’s higher than mine. For what it’s worth you can go around screaming “My IQ is higher than Jon Furniss’s.”
And then everyone will be like… “Who is Jon Furniss?”
And I will have succeeded in making my name just a little bit more well known, even if it just gets me known as the man with no IQ.