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in a web of glass, pinned to the edges of vision

Okay, I can still sometimes be witty.

I'd forgotten how often we saw Magritte

mucha mosaic

Okay, I can still sometimes be witty.

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mucha mosaic
Since the Incident, I keep hearing that I've become very forgetful. I don't generally notice it, but I've been seriously freaking on it hard lately, because I am starting to hear about it in my workplace, and how it's affecting my work with other folks badly and and and.
On a conscious level, I've been going 'yeah right, load of fucking bullshit', but on a personal subconscious level, I've been wondering just how hard the grey jelly inside the skull got rattled around by the whole, you know, dropping dead for 3 minutes thing.
So someone commented on rock criticism being 'lit-crit for the illit' and I produced the following paragraph. While I'm not viewing it as any sort of actual masterful wit or something, I can at least look at it and know that I still have a working brain in my skull.
Which I've honestly been uncertain about.
Quote commences:
lit-crit for the illit would be...commentary on the oeuvre of Danielle Steele as measured against that of Victoria Holt? The leitmotif of Big Black Dots in any comicbook drawn by Jack Kirby, and its meaning in the face of the early-1980's resurgence of Galactus?
...good god, I can't believe I used 'leitmotif' and 'Galactus' in the same sentence.
  • Frank Miller made it completely acceptable to say those two words in the same sentance.

    Still damn funny, though.
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