I cannot, but I couldn't fit "I" into the subjectline. Those moments that upset are like blunt objects submitting my mind to uncanny trauma, but paradoxically the specificity required to lay this out in words required many words and the more words you use the more emotionally detatched you become from the imagery's disturbing power and thus the further in recedes in your attempts to articulate it verbally. I'll just put it this way: the images you see have already happened, the regret and pain have no immediacy anymore, but are now product, and are horrifically useless cosmically to the souls depicted. Like Magritte explained how his painting of a pipe wasn't a pipe at all. There's no going back. There is no band.

A-

Your getting better, those expository courses and forensic psychology night classes are yielding excellent results...keep it up.



Oh yeah.....

I am serious...like I alluded to in an earlier post...the last fucking thing I am gonna see when I croak is whatever the last porn scene was that I watched...My Brain is a fucking tape recorder, the curse of genius and a Photographic memory...where are the children's Books???


Sidenote** I will pay good money for someone to assasinate the head of the ad agency that created the Travelocity Roaming Gnome. I've got - "Bullhonkery! We Make excellent travel guides! THE WHEELS ON THE BUS GO ROUND n ROUND..."- reverberating in my head, and the memories of the Travelocity Whore I dated years ago are flooding back, like the time she made me go to fucking Whistler, British Columbia to ...."Ski"...wtf?

What we see in whores but better than a bag over her face.

Sabrina, that's one of the most disturbing fucking images that have ever been posted here, including the photoshop of the sex offender's face on Sammura's moon-cratered body. Well done!

Whistler, BC is one of the nicest places in North America, I wouldn't complain. I mean, it is more scenic than say Detroit, or Porn Valley.