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the alchemy of turning shit into gold is in my nature.
vertigo.
the shit obituaries are made of... creeping up past my ankles, up to my knees...
it would seem i've come to the bridge. the water gives the senses an illusion of motion, but i am still.
better to be able to and not, than know you can't and couldn't even if you tried...
the spectre of the profile of the height to which one can ascend without a great deal of effort brings fear. not apprehension, but fear. the kind that tastes like metal.
what to do?
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i am/was listening to:
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note me for ownership of GNUzen - the freesoftware & copyleft community on DeviantArt - it's time someone took it from me
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People are more violently opposed to fur than leather because it's safer to harass rich women than motorcycle gangs
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"Something dead in the street commands more measured units of visual investigation than 100 Mona Lisas!"
"If it commands attention it's culture, if it matches the couch it's art."
-Robert Williams
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