boy, "black holes ain't so black"
people as interactive objects?
i didn't realise that people were objects until nmeione spurted like a geyser onto my parent's kitchen floor. everything that had previously been on the inside suddenly and obtrusively appeared in a mess on the outside. i could see acid and carrot juice and merciless tomatoes...rushing to the top of her and ejecting violently out of her mouth. her limbs were stiff and outstretched and i was shocked wide-eyed and shuddering in the hallway.
so humans are solid creatures with many layers and noisy insides singing all the time so as not to be forgotten?
this is sort of comforting but also quite disturbing as i am also matter. quite simply.
anyway. it is hard to remember and keep in mind.
and anyway. there are lots of other things to unhealthily dwell on.
all day i have been forcing myself to sickness with images of torture instruments straight from the spanish inquisition.
'torture is a male activity,' says the introduction. and i am less than surprised. but, oh, i can feel my skull and vertebrae crumbling under iron and gruesome shoots of metal impaling me from all sides.
i may also turn inside-out.
i have got to stop loading my subconscious down with so much dangerous ammunition. i fear my body being ripped to pieces in my dreams.
why is the absolute horror in the face of death and physical pain so impossible to eradicate? i really need to start conditioning. or my heart may attack me when the walls rumble and creak in the dark.
i didn't realise that people were objects until nmeione spurted like a geyser onto my parent's kitchen floor. everything that had previously been on the inside suddenly and obtrusively appeared in a mess on the outside. i could see acid and carrot juice and merciless tomatoes...rushing to the top of her and ejecting violently out of her mouth. her limbs were stiff and outstretched and i was shocked wide-eyed and shuddering in the hallway.
so humans are solid creatures with many layers and noisy insides singing all the time so as not to be forgotten?
this is sort of comforting but also quite disturbing as i am also matter. quite simply.
anyway. it is hard to remember and keep in mind.
and anyway. there are lots of other things to unhealthily dwell on.
all day i have been forcing myself to sickness with images of torture instruments straight from the spanish inquisition.
'torture is a male activity,' says the introduction. and i am less than surprised. but, oh, i can feel my skull and vertebrae crumbling under iron and gruesome shoots of metal impaling me from all sides.
i may also turn inside-out.
i have got to stop loading my subconscious down with so much dangerous ammunition. i fear my body being ripped to pieces in my dreams.
why is the absolute horror in the face of death and physical pain so impossible to eradicate? i really need to start conditioning. or my heart may attack me when the walls rumble and creak in the dark.