To type and let it all out. Why not type and let it all out and play it backwards. And then play it forwards over it playing backwards. All sounds being presented backwards, yet running structurally forwards. Fall and hear the sounds suck to a jutted beat. “Two cripples dancing, to the bitter end we live.”
I just had every missing person in, I guess, the United States of America add me on myspace. No, a selected database of the planets missing persons – those we notices had gone. For those whom a lack is felt. Please help find the missing.
Sickeningly sad is the way something as strange as that experience will make you feel. Unable to properly organise a combination of emotions to deal with something so unusual and foreign in ones life hitherto is what you will be.
Without even consciously contemplating their fate – no matter how hypothetical – an uneasiness based in instincts cultivated over the years you have so far lived will turn your stomach in the safety of your body as it sits in the safety of your home.
Ridged clicks and smooth, sad, sickness will tick and ebb through your body.
And then you won’t feel it. Problems too big and (too) not your own. You will feel it’s absence. Then you will not.
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