Two months ago, after one of his friends' shows, Kevin sticks around and chats with the band. He has a particularly pleasant conversation with the pianist, a petite, friendly gal with tulip tattoos on each arm and a red feather in her hair. She giggles and smiles whenever she looks at him, though she seems to do that for everybody--Kevin can't
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Uterus: What's WRONG with you? That cute groupie was gonna ask you out.
Brain: The dicks just want you, and the brains always want to make shape me, make me something else. Or get tired of me, and both leave in the end. Anyway, if I was happy, I couldn't write. You know the drill.
(Heart releases a wet sob, and continues weeping throughout further conversation, largely ignored.)
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1: Way to miss the point.
2: You may recall that, as a musician and writer, I do have some experience with these matters.
3: The idea that creativity or inspiration comes from one place has always quite annoyed me. Also, the idea that brains (imaginary talking ones or not) are fully rational. And the idea that characters are all mouthpieces for an author.
4: http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/creepy.png
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Also that xkcd has nothing to do with my comment, so I am confused.
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XKCD thing makes much more sense now.
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