I howl like the wolf because I need. And no matter how I try, I can’t stop needing. I’m also worried that if I stop needing, I will lose my raison d’etre, and that’s a lot of raisons, reasons and raisons, and really saying something what with being stuck in limbo with only a fraction of a newt’s breath of a chance of getting into heaven, and even that perturbs me. What am I going to do there without need? No longing to both cripple and indulge my emotions. In fact, or so the story goes, I won’t have emotions, just peace, which to me sounds a lot like being a product without a soul. What will occupy my mind, ie the mind of the obsessed and the addicted? Speaking to all you horror and Sci Fi Fans out there. One genre crossing out the other out. Always in a dichotomy of tension and contradiction. We strive, don’t we, to fulfill the promise, the potential of the greatness our life could be. And in that promise, we think the future’ll be bright in its lack of want, when all our desires are satiated. But to be honest, we are addicted to not having. Whatever the original fissure, probably in childhood, it has left a big bucket of need, so big that when you look inside you cannot see the edges, the corners, or the rot. And we cling onto it, because if we don’t, if we put it down, we’ll be crippled by our pain and by what we think is the banal and the ordinary. In other words, no matter how dreadful all of your problems are, sweet listeners and horror and SCI FI miscreants, from across time and space, I’m telling you that you love them, indeed, what would you do without them? And what would we do without our reciprocal feed on them. So keep on keeping on, let’s spoil for a bit of a game of combinations and permutations of mutual self-torment and see how it all lands. What larks. Keep on sending in your tales of want, panic, fear, self-loathing, murder, torture, haunting, future dystopia and general misanthropy. Unzip your throat and pull out your most rancid of egos and slap it on the table like the random access memory you pretended to forget and as your friendly neighbourhood Vigilante Cannibal Nun as Agony Aunt I will see how I can help clean out your proverbial cobwebs, not with bleach, but with a feather duster that just redistributes filth rather that getting to the root cause. Welcome to Episode 40: Bitter Perfection & Precision Violence.
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