My Finger's On The Kill Switch
Previous - this entry written on July 11, 2005 at 7:19 am - Next
Blue Monday is playing at an insanely loud volume right now.
Really, that about says it all. I don't understand why my head is doing what it's doing but I am painfully familiar with it. Doesn't make sense. Isn't good. Isn't right. Isn't rational. Happens anyway. Wanna see something that Freud would have a picnic over?
Here: Audience Of One, Interlude, and Final Notes. Just don't ask me about 'em, k? 'Cos I'm not saying a thing.
Ok, not strictly true, since obviously I'm saying something right now, but you know what I mean. I'm well aware that something in these is... more than the surface shows. Something deep in the dark corners of my head is throwing these series of images at me, over and over again. The sisters. The singing girl. The spirit eater. The nightmare door and the table full of unreal food and the crack in the windowpane... oh, right now my head's an artist's grab bag, and I can't seem to write any of it out, it's all visible, all images, all pictures. Words, for the first time, fail utterly.
...she dreams in digital...
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