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My dear, my very dear, Anarchist, my poppet, my pigsnie,
I am tetrageist.
There, I have made identity!
What is a tetrageist?
I do not know.
Pester me not with these questions.
Perhaps, I shall make a pretend, as if there is something about the tetrageist that makes it the sum of its parts or greater! But that would be mathematics. And mathematics is currently out of style. It's about as hip as Socrates' tax bracket. See, logic is what all the cool cats are doing. Logic is a firm rock, a solid foundation of all things good and bountiful. I think, therefore I must be dreaming. LUCIDITY! Time is one thousand.
Which came first, logic or mathematics? Is logic based on mathematics, or is mathematics based on logic? Logic wins every time, of course. It is NOT a cliche, you twat, it's metaphor. Such a sexy literary device. I like my women like I like my metaphor.
To rectify the abhorrent construction of the sentence in the previous paragraph, I furthermore declare syntax to be severely unfashionable, more withered by the hands of Chronos than Julia Child's virtual fruitcake in a hundred years' time. Why yes, thar it be, four score and a hundred years from now, still sitting in your cookie jar! It stays there forever, you know. Watching you masturbate.
And yet, you still ask me, what is a tetrageist?
I will tell you.
I will show you.
I will teach you.
To draw emotion from the hands of a deity. 'tis poetic, see?
Don't you just feel it? The emotion?
Omnia influit, sicut lácrimam ab obeuntis solis.
Such power in a word, the crown of the English language. I could even let it stand alone again, simply, humbly, like the isolated mentasmic complex of an angsty prepubescent suburban female with a predilection towards Avenged Sevenfold and pants that are four sizes too small. But it means something, somewhere.
Oh, for fuck's sake, I see that fire behind your temporal lobe. If your pestilent will so deigns that it come to fruition, if ending the journey will truly bring you the solace you so desperately desire and satiate your bug-eyed tendencies, I will tell you this. I am a product of the utmost quality, lovingly crafted by our hand-picked artisans, and shoved with tenderness into the furnace and left to die with the rest of the QA department. All other artifacts will be deleted.
Shame I didn't put any effort into that ending. But this is all a placeholder to begin with.
And then there was a vacuum, and then there was light. And so we found ourselves at the beginning of another strange loop. And lo, this is the essence of a tetrageist!
And so I vanished, like the ghost of the fourth wire past. Oooh this is fun, I can actually play tetra like a character here, huh. Forums and message boards are so yawn-inducing at times.
Also, if you haven't noticed, yes. I'm a pseudogeist. Slajov Žižek without the foundation, if you will; a poet enamored, yet crippled by an inability to hipsterize through the Ghosts n Stuff of literature, despite my fondness for it. A guilty admonition, yes. In time, I will find my way to the ground, and build from there, rather than hopping from the shoulders of one giant to the next. But first, a round of double-time on a degree. In elecrical engineering, of all things, of course, yes, an endeavor to be expected from such a borderline artistic mind as myself.
Ah, right. I was supposed to end a few paragraphs ago. Well, I did give it my best shot.
-throws an assburger out the window-