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Anyway, my knife's done. They're a sort of vicious, opulent fish.

corpse nonsense 

1880s mourning mores dictated that if you didn't tell the witnesses to your tragic end to dig your grave both wide and deep, they could just squish your remains into a ditch and call it done.


I was going to show you the sets of plaster models of my dentition I found under my bed, but balked in deference to the idea of a biometric bite lock. Imagine sinking your teeth just far enough into a rubbery device then hearing the soft scrape & smack of a retreating bolt.


When a writer describes a smile as revealing two rows of [crooked/shining/yellowed/etc.] teeth, I always envision one behind the other, with further rows deeper & unseen.

I'll concede to felinity only in being smaller when I feel safe.

"...a frenzied rite named by the sect's adherents as 'the fructive castration'..."

Do you reckon the indefensible luxury of imagining yourself to be harmless tastes good, or is it more of a comfortable absence of feeling?

dream incest 

Nightmare in which I am married to my father and have to navigate absurd bureaucracy to divorce him even though he's still dead. A form I need can only be scrounged from the brochure rack of a dingy pizzeria out in Lancaster. Kinda ham-fisted, really.


I'm 95% sure this was a northern brownsnake, which is neat because that's also what someone who'd never before seen, read about, or heard of a snake might guess.

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Is having errantly chomped a still-vital limb in the crush around the corpse any cause to forbid us from further gnawing language as starvation-crazed vermin? You lose track of yourself for a moment and someone's fingers are in your throat—isn't that how it ought to be?

Mostly-asleep-looking 12-or-so-year-old just drifted by mumbling, "You could live forever and ever and ever and..."

My hands should be covered in tectoplastic spikes like in that Ian McDonald novel that dented my young brain. I want to be able to refuse a handshake by saying, "No, I oughtn't, I've got the overwhelmingly sensual nano-cancer needles."

off food 

Chewed a bad blackberry just enough that when I spat it was like a full mouth of dark purple ink.

As a small child I once refused to take off a pair of toy handcuffs for hours until I could retrieve their very unnecessary keys. Endearing commitment. Last time I walked a church labyrinth I left it in a straight line.

Proliferation of stacked-block energy storage could revive your failing catapult business.

Given I was improvising and teaching myself skills & tools at every step, I'm pretty happy with it. Kept my perfectionism at bay better than I often do.

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