strange days...

I am. I think.

Colds hands, cold heart, crimson or amber eyes? Check and check. I like to sample from this black abyss, but I've been told there is too much of a good thing, or so I've heard. Looks like I've got an endless supply around here. I'll just test this theory out, you know, to see if it's true. I'll write you letters from some dark gaol to warn you off if I must, but so far... soooo damn good.

Thank you to all you talented writers out there for indulging me.

I mean this from the bottom of my dead heart and all the ice in my veins.

Keep it coming. Please feed the monster. You know you want to.

There are two kinds of truth: the truth that lights the way and the truth that warms the heart. The first of these is science, and the second is art. Neither is independent of the other or more important than the other. Without art science would be as useless as a pair of high forceps in the hands of a plumber. Without science art would become a crude mess of folklore and emotional quackery. The truth of art keeps science from becoming inhuman, and the truth of science keeps art from becoming ridiculous.

-Raymond Thornton Chandler, writer (1888-1959)