That I live like a hermit in my own head
That place where you or people in general or someone specific gets stuck and can no longer proceed. That moment when you might have or actually did or probably never did. This fountain of suffering from which you cannot cease drinking.
I don’t like the small noises and stock music of commercials, I’m as mad at The Food Network as everyone was at MTV when it became more about drama than music. I’m sick of being talked to by boxes made of plastic, metal and glass and I relish in being read to by gently vibrating flesh, blood, bone and skin.