editor's note: when you begin canabalising your own work that's when you know you've made it...
When I first started going bald, that's when I knew I was mortal.
You never forget that first time feeling when you realize you're fallible, biodegradable.
After passively absorbing mass media paranoia for an undisclosed number of years, you find yourself looking through a fogged lens staring into a different kind of beautiful. You look around. You see caricatures of youth, signifiers with a 'strange valley' feel that tell you something is not quite right. Why settle for temporary cosmetic solutions when you can have the real thing.
My estimated half-life is is just the same as everyone elses. Take the average life expectancy of any westernized nation, adjust for the early years you can never remember and the final ones that you'd rather forget, if Alzheimer's doesn't get you first, then divide by two. According to this rationale, I'm statistically over half-way to extinction.
Nothing like encroaching spectre of death to liven things up a little.
"Die pussy as mothers".
That's Stanislav, he's new to English.
No comments:
Post a Comment