high time i made more use of this site.
i plan on typing out and posting a shit ton of shit from napkins and receipts and envelopes and scraps of paper.


To Whet The Appetite:

Newly empty stomachs hurt with hope. The hungry have eaten. The desperation of the famished is beyond pain and without bitter memory.
.

The complexion burnt with fiery counter-intuition and masochistic overcompensation, drinking in carcinogenic heat completely absent of melanin's joyous hue.
.

There is an undeniable genius in superfluous improvement. The childlike sponge which makes exponential the curve of growth and learning but dries brittle and straight, late for the lucky, is kept thriving and moist in these skulls. The genius is a Peter Pan and will inevitably wilt, as all do, but brilliantly deceased when he does.
.

Dawn shot through the blinds like the headlights of an inappropriately early visitor. Flooded the living room with light so palpable it seeped into the protective folds of black that once preserved magic.
.

The uniform equality, which an uncertain ethic seemed to persuade her to enforce, did not exclude me. I expected neither an easily manipulated exemption, nor the corrupting power of endless pardon. Still, the favor-free sterility which would usually inspire, demoralized.
.

The flattery of influence is diluted in the humbling weight of responsibility. Reciprocation is ironic: you can neither trust those whose sanity you doubt, nor those who doubt yours. Under self-mastery's curtain, admiration becomes inspiration, inspiration becomes recreation, all in a tangle of vicarious narcissism and inexplicably consistent self destruction. Threads snap.
.

ive been busy!