Thursday, March 23, 2006


Things have a way of getting very strange, very quickly.

Like I've just tied a man up naked, covered him in peanut butter and left him at the mercy of a llama with a new found taste for the crunchy stuff.

Only in fiction mind, but it does make me wonder where the hell all this stuff come from. Is there a dark little part of my mind that I don't like to admit to, even to my self?

I'd blame it all on Trent Reznor and his music, thats about the darkest thing in my life, or Brom. But to my knowledge, niether of them has either sung or painted about peanut butter.

ah well


Anonymous Serenity said...

I don't know where you got the peanut butter or the angst from either!

'Tis a shame that you missed out on the delightful tortures of a cozen-massage. I've been waiting for one for nearly a year now. *sigh* and now I'm all pregnant and engaged and unkidnappable.

9:56 pm  

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