desidia

Sex is a lot like brushing your teeth.
Somehow we get the feeling we're not the first person to make that comparison.

And please, stop requesting us if we've never spoken.

Aaaannnndd... We guess this should be longer so we'll say that we are fond of Metalocalypse and that something about this place kills our need to create art. We haven't so much as drawn a thing really since New York.

New York is often on our mind. We are finally reading the seventh and final Dark Tower, surely a series that ever shaped us, gave us hope and in some ways is better than Neil Gaiman.

It echoes and echoes and echoes the significance of the black building on 46th and 2nd in the sixth and seventh novel and how on our last day in New York we stopped there not once but twice unknowing, purchasing the sixth novel the very next morning.

And yes, we were using the royal we and yes, we are now tired of it as well.

One last bit of interest; Cloves. Its saddening but I'm growing tired of them as I grow tired of everything. They are ever a part of us as ever, the closest item you could use to represent me. But we've known the smell of clove smoke before I even knew myself, I have no idea who I was when I was 18. I wouldn't even recognize my younger self even though I was already french inhaling cigarettes the colour of dried blood.

I still love them and may never give them up but its an aroma I've been smelling over half a decade and its a smell I now associate with memories I can no longer remember.