Turn on some slow but dark and hateful music and let's get going. The reason for this wicked music is because people seem to be more comfortable with negative aspects than positive ones. I'm not saying that I'm trying to depress myself, no, the opposite is whats true. I'm focusing on a bit of the negative to see if it brings any sort of noticeable comfort. Keep trying new things I says.
When everything is dark, it seems to be working. I am not inclined to get up from this expensive futon and go outside with a high powered rifle or anything, so I know that the music isn't influencing my motives at all. What it's doing right now is making me feel all warm inside. I wonder if this comfort is the result of the previously mentioned inclination that humans possess that makes them want the negative rather than positive…or if this is just a fluke and the real enjoyment comes from the fact that it really is a pleasant song despite it's painful undertone.
The one who is torn apart, distorted.
Well, enough about that.
It goes without saying that a lucid coma is far worse than a vegetable coma… just wanted to let you know.
The novel length text has cooled off a bit. I wonder if I'll wind up heating the damn thing up again, with fire, purging and beautiful fire. I may, it's not coming along as well as I like on account of my mind never being in the right place anymore. I mean, its inside my skull and connected with all the right parts, so maybe I should have said my heart, I'm fairly certain it's in another country by now. But either way I'm simply not in enough pain or possess enough anger or moxie or any kind of mojo or magic that I need to continue the incredible pace of writing that I had been maintaining before Shitzkrieg 2: Electric Boogaloo swept over my shituation.
Lady wearing short shorts with a fur leather jacket over here… Sol bless her, doing her part time duty as eye candy despite it being colder than the heart of hell around her. Hrmmm… strange thoughts coming to mind as she prances about… not sexual… cannibalistic… I wonder how she would react if I told her this. Certainly the face she would probably make would be worth the effort of getting up from here and sauntering over to her.
"Pardon me, but your walking around in short shorts in winter is causing me to have strange cannibalistic thoughts. Would you be so kind as to stick this apple in your mouth for my amusement?"
If she would panic and bolt, as she almost certainly would, then at least she'd have something to tell her friends during movie night. And, if she happened to dig it, well sir, I'm sure at the very least it would lead to a stimulating conversation.
Driving on empty is bad for the engine, and this applies to more than just automobiles. I need to read something good. Most of the magazines I see around me are the literary equivalent of used band-aids. Walking magazine? Now I'm seeing things again…
I'll wrap this one up and start on another, but I think I'll post this one because I haven't updated my online word depository in a while. At the very least the two people who read it will have these uneventful words and a picture that will have nothing to do with any of the text.
Oh yes, brain tumors are shit.
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