Dancing on the Graves...
I know...it has been a while. I get so distracted by life that quite often forget to log in and check out my friends lives. I hope everyone is doing well and that they are surviving the new year in style. Life has been all over the place the last few months, but hopefully it will even out and start to make any sense.
This week will bring a new place of residence and a good friends wedding. And like always...even though I begin moving into my new place tomorrow...I procratinated and didn't start packing until last night...yeah I know...bad Ann!
As always...I read or play games during my breaks at work...currently I am reworking my way through Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake series and was stopped by this passage in her book Burnt Offerings. I was stopped by how much I felt in tune with the passage. It sorta sums up a lot of the feelings that have chased themselves around my mind over the last few months...morbid, but true...(note: the beast that the passage begins with refers to the beast of a werewolf)
“His beast was formed of that part of our brains we bury, only dragging into our consciousness in the worst of our nightmares. Not the dreams where we are hunted by the monsters, but the dreams where we are the monsters. We raise bloody hands to the sky and scream, not from fear, but from joy. The pure joy of slaughter. The cathartic moment when we plunge our hands into the hot blood of our enemies and there is no civilized thought to stop us from dancing on their graves.”
This week will bring a new place of residence and a good friends wedding. And like always...even though I begin moving into my new place tomorrow...I procratinated and didn't start packing until last night...yeah I know...bad Ann!
As always...I read or play games during my breaks at work...currently I am reworking my way through Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake series and was stopped by this passage in her book Burnt Offerings. I was stopped by how much I felt in tune with the passage. It sorta sums up a lot of the feelings that have chased themselves around my mind over the last few months...morbid, but true...(note: the beast that the passage begins with refers to the beast of a werewolf)
“His beast was formed of that part of our brains we bury, only dragging into our consciousness in the worst of our nightmares. Not the dreams where we are hunted by the monsters, but the dreams where we are the monsters. We raise bloody hands to the sky and scream, not from fear, but from joy. The pure joy of slaughter. The cathartic moment when we plunge our hands into the hot blood of our enemies and there is no civilized thought to stop us from dancing on their graves.”