first report back
my secrets sleep in long sleeves. my face is a couch-print. i am wary of sounding like henry rollins' spoken word, which i recall listening to on my teenage clock radio/cassette player. something needs tweaking, probably just sleep. my concerns of late exhibit such polarity, the state of the world, the state of my brain chemistry. as per usual, i guess. nothing obliterates unsightly scale like reading about milton friedman's world of warcraft-playing progeny and the excellent pontypool changes everything which i was so chuffed to get my hands on since the film adaptation (which tony burgess also wrote) was so satisfying. heh. semiotic zombies. life, self, the world be damned. well, except for going to see the nest of baby hawks roosting outside the scarborough civic centre; that i'm looking forward to.
..and i won't speak up because i am not of rodentia