Thursday, August 16, 2012

Something changed.

The foreman fell off the ladder and we had to get a new one.

A new ladder or a new foreman?

The latter.

The latter or the ladder?

The former.

The former or the foreman?


I broke my nose once. Well, it wasn’t my nose, it was some guy’s. And it wasn’t once, it was a pattern of abuse, happening many, many times over many, many years. And it wasn’t just some guy, it was the five-pound mummified fetus of my twin brother growing out of my ass.

Something hurts. It’s my head. When I try to use my brain, it doesn’t feel like there’s a brain there—I expect conscious access to a responsive network of memories, knowledge, experience and intuitions. It doesn’t feel like that. It feels like wet rags.

Try thinking with a bucket full of wet rags sometime.


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