What Wonderful Thing Didn't Start Out Scary?

The Kind Of Stuff I Usually Read Is A Bit More On The Literary Side, Like Books That I Think Are Influential In The Sense That They're Doing Pulpy Subject Matter In A Refined Way. Like 'the Road' By Cormac Mccarthy, I Loved That Book.

Peel Off These Dusty Wool Blankets Of Apathy And Antipathy And Cynical Desiccation. I Want Life In All Its Stupid Sticky Rawness.

When The Entire World Is Built On Death And Horror, When Existence Is A Constant State Of Panic, It's Hard To Get Worked Up About Any One Thing. Specific Fears Have Become Irrelevant. We've Replace Them With A Smothering Blanket Far Worse.

Is This Muteness A Real Physical Handicap? One Of The Many Symptoms Of Being Dead?or Do We Just Have Nothing Left To Say?

Can We Really Choose Anything?' 'maybe. If We Want To Bad Enough.