I was just notified by the creativity police that I posted an entry very similar to Sloop's entry about Lola. (http://sloopsicedeck.blogspot.com/) I just wanted to clarify that mine was NO attempt at friendplagiarism at all. I was just staring at my dog and started typing about what he was thinking. Zach and I are very close and I was realizing I had never written about my buddy and his watery, phenylbarbatol ridden little brain with the very big heart.

The fact of the matter is - the saying 'its time had come' is very true - Sloop and myself are just creative geniuses. What can I say? We simply both thought of the perfect blog entry circa the same time unbeknownst to one another. So I started thinking about what Sloop might be thinking at this very moment. I couldn't really think of anything clever since I am not him. So I decided instead to write about what I am thinking. Again, I could not really think of anything. I think my brain-waves are being muted by the sounds of 'Bad Boys' playing in the background. Will Smith may be cute to some, but I think he is only a vaguely amusing formula actor. Not formula in the sense of Brando - because that would be flattery - more in the sense of, well, Will Smith, or maybe that guy in Napoleon Dynamite.

A.G.

Replace. New Picture. One of my favorite Helix logos yet. We should have a contest and come up with a cool new 'official' logo for our church. 

Zach Thoughts

I am laying on the floor, worried. Dinner is late. So late. I am losing my senses. I am in a bad way, in fact, I can't feel my legs. I can see one of them and it looks fine, but the rest of my limbs must have gone numb - maybe when I lay on them I can't feel them anymore. I wonder if they are still there? If I can't see them are they still there? How do I know they are not actually gone, its hard to prove anything - especially when there is always someone else who looks exactly like me blocking my view to the mirror. Selfish.

Anyway, I had better walk around and shake this feeling off. My head itches, I wish I hadn't lost my hands during that last nap. Walk around, walk around, shake it off, you're fine. Man, dinner is really late. I AM worried. Don't they KNOW that I have epilepsy? I could die here! Once every twelve hours, I had better sleep, or pace around, maybe I could patrol every room and look for that thing I keep forgetting whenever I think about that other thing and then get distracted by my own state of starvation. What is keeping everybody? Aaaaahhh. I need my dinner!!! Ahhh, 12 hours PEOPLE. I wish I could open my mouth and say something. This place is so oppressive - everybody talks so fast and they only say the things that really matter once in a great while. Things like dinner, and dinner, and treats, and love, and dinner, and poop, and bedtime. Now that's what matters. My head itches. I wish I had hands. Evolution is so unfair.


Zach sleeping. Dreaming about his next meal, or a field of glorious dandelions with endless fields of smelly things hidden in between, like easter eggs.