Saturday and the flavour of darkness

It is Saturday.

Yeah!

Well, okay, not such a big deal. Another day older and deeper in debt, you know? But most people celebrate Saturday as an escape from the responsibility of their 9-5, M-F job. Losers. Your work is a part of your identity. If you resent what you do, you are resenting a part of yourself. The part that largely funds the other aspects of your life. Sort of dumb, eh? Integrate. Compartmentalization is a coping mechnism of inadequacy.

I am still working on the new song, tweaking the darkness I am calling. I had a close friend the other day talk about her darkness. I always want to laugh at people who make an issue of their darkness, as most have no sense of it beyond some posed pretense learned off the cover of an album and in bad song lyrics.

You want real stygian, intense, dark, infinite blackness? I don't know if I can translate it as well as it deserves, but I am spending some time there, touching, tasting, smelling, feeling, listening to the world beyond shadows. Summoning it to the tips of my tongue and fingers, the better to unleash it like a hoarse scream of self-immolation.

Or really good sex.