quiescence

There is a very definite point where reading Boudrillard and listening to Rasputina begins to collapse neural pathways. On the upside, my head does have a vaguely pleasant jelly-filled sensation. (How deeply ironic that I read Boudrillard, listen to a cd of quasi-classical "goth" cello-rock and then post about it to an electronic community built around "altie" porn that proposes a countercultural model of feminine sexuality/beauty)!!!

I don't know if I want to crack up laughing or lie down in the dark and cry...