It's comfortable in the cornstarch mixed with fleece, bedded fireside & unaware it's all a fever dream, ever heightened sense screams sense at each float-by epiphany--- the mind is a miracle, each nerve impulse is a firework just waiting to be set off impulsively, so let's examine...
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EXHIBIT Q: A Quick Question-
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EXHIBIT V:
EXHIBIT Q: A Quick Question-
The eyes stay the same size
from birth
until death, yet the nose
never ceaces its growth...
Adult
or
Pinnochio?
from birth
until death, yet the nose
never ceaces its growth...
Adult
or
Pinnochio?
EXHIBIT V:
(Can I share with you? 99% of people would say that this isn't important, and they'd laugh in my face... they'd laugh at an inconsisency within a mulitibillion dollar industry!)
Hold my hand and come with me back to my first vampire movie aired on rerun cable TV. Maybe a firework failed to light, or maybe one went off prematurely, whizzing 'cross families huddled on blankets not rated firesafe by the state of California, thus resulting in a gruesome amputee injury (or worseyet), but from the very beginnning, I imagined fangs constructed with extra, expert efficiency:
They were immediately seen in cross-section like needles, to stick, to suck, tovacuum-steady flow, butterfly needle precision to swiftly carry away a full meal to wherever it is in a vampire that blood goes.
And I hit a half-decade stumbling-block as the world around me seemed to explode with a collective societal embrace, a love of these weak, pale, feebly-licking, puncture mark-leaving, poorly engineed nocturnal freak who's got no anatomy, knows naught 'cept phebotomy til he drops off, swollen and pink, like a sexy Hoolywood tick ('cept they don't show the swollen part- I have asked why, but haven't received and answer yet)... while he should've siphoned more precisely and by now gone on to design a UVB-proff parasol in a shade befitting his pointed cheeks and pallor, still he's there suckling, latched on like a baby to ride the self-cycling anti-suffocating swallow & gasp of somewhere slightly to the left of the jugular vein- but if he's so hungry and his mark's still struggling, I ask humbly:
Where are all the hickeys?
Hold my hand and come with me back to my first vampire movie aired on rerun cable TV. Maybe a firework failed to light, or maybe one went off prematurely, whizzing 'cross families huddled on blankets not rated firesafe by the state of California, thus resulting in a gruesome amputee injury (or worseyet), but from the very beginnning, I imagined fangs constructed with extra, expert efficiency:
They were immediately seen in cross-section like needles, to stick, to suck, tovacuum-steady flow, butterfly needle precision to swiftly carry away a full meal to wherever it is in a vampire that blood goes.
And I hit a half-decade stumbling-block as the world around me seemed to explode with a collective societal embrace, a love of these weak, pale, feebly-licking, puncture mark-leaving, poorly engineed nocturnal freak who's got no anatomy, knows naught 'cept phebotomy til he drops off, swollen and pink, like a sexy Hoolywood tick ('cept they don't show the swollen part- I have asked why, but haven't received and answer yet)... while he should've siphoned more precisely and by now gone on to design a UVB-proff parasol in a shade befitting his pointed cheeks and pallor, still he's there suckling, latched on like a baby to ride the self-cycling anti-suffocating swallow & gasp of somewhere slightly to the left of the jugular vein- but if he's so hungry and his mark's still struggling, I ask humbly:
Where are all the hickeys?
EXHIBIT F: Immolation... or... (I Tire of You)
Tourist A: Feel it! No, seriously, just touch it, it won't bite!
Tourist B: No way!
A: What, are you getting all chickened out? Dude--- it's like being chickened out at a fucking cemetery! "(in mocking falsetto) Oh nooo! I do believe we are approaching a bone-yard! Quickly, now, turn the horses 'round anticlockwise, thrice! Thrice, I say! and no less. As soon as the first death's head is in sight, hold your breath-
B: Oh, what a shitty comparrisson! You're talking about a pretty little lawn that just happens to have corpses buried in it-
A: "O, the corpses, the dread corpses, entwined, stacked, pallets of them! eight side-to-side here! Now there! Three abreast below two inches of of wretched death soil, made all the more wretched by those who came and retched! O, the cacophany of souls screaming in limbo, looking down on this mass of-
B: Coffins are encased in concrete!
A: "...and now, where once was a healthy glow about her countenance, now there is only a pallor so awful, so ghastly that it was designed by things unkown and evil! O, I stil can see the lines tattooed onto her face from her agony of death throes!"
B: Just- just stop, Seriously. I am not touching the only remaining part of what was once a human being and now a greasy rubber pool burnt into the pavement! It was still smoking this morning when we walked past.
A: It won't burn you... it's been cooling off the whol--
B: I was not concerned with getting burnt! I'm concerned by you urging me on to touch the splotch on the pavement that was once someone who either did something wrong or was in the wrong place at the wrong time! They got an old busted up Michellin- or whatever brand of tires they use here- and then more people than he/she could fight off probably carried them into the road, gave him a huge rubber necklace, doused it in gasoline and lit the fucking match. Guy, girl, young, old... no fucking clue...
There's a reason, you say, that they never started selling petrol flavored chewing gum or taffy! No one liked the taste of it then, and you sure as hell don't like it now! The discussion disgusts you.
Well, that's because you grew up thinking that being strapped to a rigid care, hooded, some hair shaved because that's where the electricty will be... and no one likes the smell of burnt hair, do they?... tightened, silent, ticking, and suddenly fire runs through your body and every muscle convulses so hard that you can't move, and this can last for minutes at a time until your heart explodes or your brain is cooked... you grew up thinking that this, the electric chair was humane, and the guillotine was barbaric.
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