My Face on Your Milk Carton: or, how I might disappear;

It’s a certain season and time of day that leads me to have unwholesome thoughts, and it is my car that gives validation to my impulsivity.  Alone I fall victim to my thoughts, my only company apart the music – and sometimes not even that.  Were it not for practicality doing its best to ground me, I would travel without end and with no destination in mind.

You see, it’s not a consequence of any consideration or planning, but rather an arrow on a brilliant sign set high above a highway on ramp that makes empty promises.

Pick me – pick me!” screams the silent metal, horrendously loud, ringing in my ears.

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The Hollow Woman: or, the way the World ends —

Depression is a funny creature. Just when you think you are in the clear, She sneaks up behind you and pulls you back in.

Between the desire

And the spasm

Between the potency

And the existence

Between the essence

And the descent

Falls the Shadow

The Hollow Men, T.S. Eliot

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And Most Women Do Not Creep by Daylight: I always lock the door when I creep by daylight —

I won’t attempt an analysis of text, or anything quite so intellectual at the moment.  Instead, in adulation, I felt inspired to record myself reading Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s 1892 short story, “The Yellow Wallpaper.”


I hope, if you have a listen, you enjoy it.  I have never done anything like this before, so I know there will be much criticism – which I welcome!  

Apart from my carrying on, I do hope you give the original text a read – if you have not – as it is one of my all time favorite shorts about Madness. 


(P.S. Sorry about all the technical issues, I don’t know why the video is starting at 2minutes+ or why the still disappears at about 7 or 8 – if I do this again, hopefully I will have gained a better understanding of Jahshaka!)