...because it is exact, and I am obsessive.

If the earth was twenty years old, dinosaurs would have been around for a week; humans for a half hour.

That has been playing and replaying in my head for a week. Damn you Rachel and your interesting tidbits. ::shakes fist half-heartedly::

It's all these damn carbs. But god I love them.

Only--here's the rub--when they find too much perfection, when the surface is already buffed smooth, the ducks already orderly, the old ladies complacent, then my little army rebels, breaks into the stores. Reality needs a prick here and there, the carpet needs a flaw. My words begin plucking at threads nervously, seeking purchase, a weak point, a vulnerable ear. That's when it comes, the urge to shout in the church, the nursery, the crowded movie house. It's an itch at first. Inconsequential. But that itch is soon a torrent behind a straining dam. Noah's flood. That itch is my whole life. Here it comes now. Cover your ears. Build an ark.

"Eat me!" I scream.
-Jonathan Lethem, Motherless Brooklyn

ink :: graphite