Strange lyric to relate to-

"...Slowly recovered your mind,

But your soul's gone cold-

and your hope has run dry."

A Pop Deathmetal song was the last place that would set me thinking.

I don't really have an urge to write these days. There are no repressed feelings of worthlessness, impotence, impatience, anger, anything that goes beyond the mundane, now. And I have every intention of keeping it that way. There is no raw passion that wants to leak into words and pour into the world, and while it is something I might miss, I will not miss it enough to try to whip myself into another 'artistic' frenzy.

So what I have left is incisiveness and sarcasm, and I intend to use it to the full. Expect a Guide to Arguing On The Internet, along with a few brutal thoughts on homosexuality and transgender operations, and maybe some ranting. Ranting is nice.

I think I'll start on something tonight. Just a few more episodes of Supernatural and chapters of Yggdra Union.