Quarrels of A Visionary

Quarrels

            Kristoffen Willhelm Quabbles was a demonologist, a quabbalist, a contortionist, and a practicing shaman in a past life. During his childhood he used to daydream about technology. He imagined softwares and currencies that could create new options for transportation, banking, and everyday life. He used to imagine these tunnels that could transport people like the Jetsons family, and he would watch dollar signs float and transform into new symbols that developed worth outside inherent value.

            Surrounding these images that dazzled him into a perplexing boredom were energetic rings from an unusual visceral frequency. These rings were comprised of colors and emotions that made him nostalgic about earth and grain. William would become pained and agitated by a prickly irritancy made of confusion. He would question existentially, whether his identity was at the mercy of a predetermined outcome.

            Herman Malakai is greatness for he is a jolly good fellow. However; sometimes he is denied. Denied of the bonafied hedonism of lust, denied of gossip, debauchery, and excessive indulgence. Denied of equitable treatment, credit, and approval.

Shindigs

            Good morning in many ways. The dynamics of a simplistic sunrise and an illustrious creator. One who sends from light years away various quests, lessons, ethics, as well as missions, consequences, and punishment. He always promises the best and most beautiful outcomes. He knows that pain is for pleasure, and that shindigs are an essential part of sanctimony. He is convoluted if you are not looking out for him. However; he is grand, orchestrative, mineralistic, and above all exalted for all of the right reasons. He loves mother earth and she loves him right back no matter how much you hate the both of them, they are completely in love with you.

            Kristoffen walked the pavement up toward the school corridor where the academy was circulating at its fine rate and pace. He walked with his head slightly down, and viewed the demand to keep his head completely raised at all times to be a pretentious excuse for laziness. The grass along both sides of the sidewalk were chameleon like in a way that they abstractly camoflouged themselves. The color’s of setting fluctuated frequently because of Kristoffen’s recent willingness to use drugs and morph his senses into something that can change. He at the same time was not sure why he viewed the natural world as stagnant. After all it was his original first big inspiration.

            Kristoffen as a student was both in his mind and socially unprecented, yet his results were inconsistent. He was able to score very high in some classes, and others were struggles. In the heat of relationships there was action and desideration to be upheld as Kristoffen simply couldn’t stop viewing his most intimate as the most sinister and biggest threat to his progress at the academy of all. Ironically they were the ones who supported him the most, and they even supported his desire to go to a Quabbilist academy which was commonly associated with some of the most nefarious spiritual beliefs that were taught throughout the whole globe. There was magic and biological polyamory, there was the channeling of carnal desires rather than the eradication of so. There was the will to power and nihilism, and there was witchcraft and sorcercy. Yet his mother and father loved him so much that they were willing to set him forth on any mission as long as he completed something of substance, as long as he put his mind to something for long periods of time. Kristoffen knew quite well that there was something great he was supposed to do, and he sensed that it was spritiually obligatorty for him to excersize this oppurutnity as a responsibility. The pressure was heavy on him, but as his feet pattered closer and closer to the grand and exquisite mansion of an academy, Kristoffen was able to tune a calm that would be the very burden of positive execution in the first place.