I have bought more of some truly hideous erotica collections. Expect all my conversations to be peppered with euphemisms such as love milk, joyful instruments, petals of youth, saline sea creatures (what other kinds of seas have you known of?) and more ghastly ones that I can’t quite recall at the moment. Between these and the rorschach inkblot tests I am conducting for academic papers, I firmly believe that I have come full circle.
While on the subject of rorschach inkblots, why haven’t we found more sophisticated ways to drive people towards kookiness? To take your mind off of this, might I ask you to imagine me as a practising therapist in roughly 4 years from now. The chupacabra seems more believable a possibility, doesn’t it?
As you can gather, I have nothing remarkable to offer by way of mindless commentary, at this point in time, so I will render myself to Zen like silence again. You can, in the meanwhile, help me run my experimental group. Here is an inkblot. Have fun with it. (And do NOT tell me this looks like a chicken or I will damage your joyful instrument permanently.)
