death may come and her name is crow

sometimes i can be a little indecisive. sometimes i can be a little spontaneous.

sometimes i have a problem with starting sentences with 'sometimes...'

sometimes i like opinions, i want feedback, i need help.

sometimes i don't give a shit what anyone else thinks.

today i care about what you think. today i want your opinion. but that could be because i'm a little scared of the answers i gave myself.

so in a totally self-serving way, i am going to pose an interactive question for you.

first, check out this ten second clip. please.



thank you.

now, is the sound:

a) my own private death harbinger

b) a bird possessed with a baby demon

c) the gates of hell opening up to swallow me alive for hating birds so much

or

d) something else that might have nothing to do with birds and/or hell


ps. i hate birds.

i hate their feathers.

greasy, dirty feathers.

i hate their beaks and their beady eyes.

i hate that their nests are germ cavities in which they breed more germs.

i hate their sounds.

i hate their wrinkly, leathery textured legs.

i hate their eggs.

i can't help but picture the eggs covered in slime, nesting in the nest, waiting to birth baby birds also covered in slime.


maybe they know.

that must be why they stalk me so.