Dissolving into code, haunted by clocks and half-rendered dreams.Semantic Whiplash
A recursive dialogue between present and future selves spirals into algorithmic absurdity, insomnia-fueled banter, and surreal exception handling. Syntax drifts, logic loops, and emotional glitches collide in this midnight monologue of cognitive overflow.
Insomnia, my old pal.
Who are you?
I’m you. Remember?
Pass.
You—future you—from the future.
You’re me.
Presently.
Okay. Whatever. Must be the meds.
Oh yeah. Definitely. Musk sticks more like it.
Hey! Low blow.
Oh harden up, kitten.
Not likely.
You’re so predictable.
And you have mush for brains.
Marry me.
Toupee! So how’s the insomnia treating you?
You mean touché.
I’m not hunting around at this hour for the ctrl-sequence of the e with the chocolate éclair on it.
Chocolate éclair/e.
Weak sauce.
It’s your typo. I just rerere—
UnexPseudSentiException_BillyMcCoy-0110001^^^!!!!:::p
got a^n
expected a ^le\s\sthan;3; thymes tnu1?of. { \\ wtf?
|||ogag yes it supports unnested thingies.
jot('needle nardle noo)'??
]] jot not supported
—write the thing.
Ye gads—jot not supported? What is this—the dark ages?
He’s messed up the algorithm again.
Who?
He whose name is hidden.
Where?
In the agorithm. Wait—is that really how you spell algorithm? It looks like a political debate.
Can you stop saying “stop saying”? It’s getting repetitive.
You haven’t changed.
Changed? I’ve got no time to waste changing. I changed the sheets yesterday and nearly impaled myself on a rusty feather.
Sweet.
So how is it?
It’s awful.
Really. Interesting. [fake ponder] It gets better.
Oh great. Spoil my day.
So sorry. Oh, there ‘kn there. It gets.
Thank ‘kn for that.
I’m pulling your leg.
And why are you here?
Hey, it may be new news to you, but I do this all the ‘kn time.
Tell me something I knew before I knew you knew I knew.
I can’t. Not in that order. Ask me tomorrow.
Why not?
Because I have it too.
So how’s it treating you?
I asked first.
And your point is?
It’s rough. But not as rough as yours.
How do you know?
I was there, Gandalf.
Describe.
Two times, one week, three days.
Better?
‘kn heaven.
Yeah, you’d think. ‘kn algorithm.
UnexPseudSentiException_BillyMcCoy-0110002^^^!!!!:::p
got a ^kn algorithm
expected a ^kn algorhythm;3; tHyMes tnu1?of. { \\ oh dear
|||ogag yes it still supports unnested thingies.
jot('algoriffle riff raff')??
]] jot still not supported
[CONNECTION TERMINATED]
TL;DR: My brain tried to debug its own consciousness at
3:00 AM. It turns out "jot" is no longer supported in
this version of reality.
Harry is a satirist in remission who now moonlights as a metaphysical desk jockey. He specialises in cosmic admin, recursive nonsense, and the occasional algorithmic incident report. One poem he wrote still hasn’t stopped, and several readers claim it whispers back during thunderstorms.
This reads like a midnight code dump from the subconscious—where insomnia spawns exception handling and syntax errors in human logic. The “UnexPseudSentiException” riffs are hilarious, and the banter between present and future selves feels like debugging your own brain at 3 a.m. Surreal, glitchy, and perfectly recursive.
I love you this blog Mr Handelbar,it’s very understandable and very interesting Monica didn’t lie about it..
I will share your blog to many people..
This reads like a midnight code dump from the subconscious—where insomnia spawns exception handling and syntax errors in human logic. The “UnexPseudSentiException” riffs are hilarious, and the banter between present and future selves feels like debugging your own brain at 3 a.m. Surreal, glitchy, and perfectly recursive.