oppressive influences

20 Dec

ah, there was a moment, right then, when the dishwasher shut off, when the hum stopped, and suddenly I realized what I was listening to- Jonsi and Alex’s Boy 1904- and the angel voices gracefully weaving a tapestry of notes and


“acquaintance” no longer applies to the former Acquaintance Jake. He is now Jacob, to tell him apart from just Jake.

and I’d like to believe that these things are just figments of my imagination, but too often I push my ideals upon the real world and am terrified by the results.

I need to talk to my dear Fauberge

and Agaetis

and gosh, I’d love to have a long conversation with Bortglomt (but what are the chances? Oh, there is no chance, only my wishful thinking and a few glances across the room at the right time)

but- but all is out of reach, all is love, all is these angel voices singing unknown languages through my skull, through the universal subconcious- oh, Freud, I’d love to believe you’re right, if only for the idea that someone else knows the images within my skull, the glorious and awesome demons writhing within-

oh, if this is what it is like to go crazy, I wouldn’t object at all.


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