I cannot believe I am finally on target again. I missed everyone today. I have cut my tongue with a long sword. I am financing my bad habits with high profits from Ned's. Thanks to everyone for keeping it packed every night. NED'S IS HOT STUFF. We were all there, oiling each other's tingles last night. Drinking love tonic and biting the foreskins. Krixfort spoke to herself through her puppet hands. It was intense. She didn't even see me.
Did you know that the promise of feeling terrible and wrong is what guides MM from one experience to the next? Why should he bother doing anything, completing any task, interacting with anyone if there is no promise of problematic residue, no bitter after-sting, no sickness to consume the skin? Injury is what makes MM real, not health. It's sadness not calm, quietude, or plenitude. I know this is a faulty and downtrodden worldview but I am hopeful that I am not alone in it.