A man – some morbidly obese person taking his sweet sweet time buying lottery tickets, cashing lottery tickets, having his lottery tickets scanned, staring at lottery tickets but not buying them, cursing lottery tickets, griping that his favorite lottery tickets were no longer for sale.. and then buying cigarettes – told me how he lost his mind. He had been in a band before, semi-popular, said that it was called “lamb gash” or something. I stood there awe-stricken by the short re-cap of his spiral to madness. He told me that his  once burgeoning band was struck by tragedy and sucked into a world of stagnation where all he could do was relive the horror of his near death experience over and over and over. He said began to hang out more and more in a cellar and see visions of his future passing, violent and inglorious. He knew he’d never achieve  the things he wanted to, and eventually the trusses crumbled and with it the psyche of the members, and even the name “gash” was no longer novel and conjured thoughts of bleeding non-salvageable oozing death wounds brought about by vicious beasts.

I told him that although his story was intriquing, I couldn’t relate. Then I came home and started this blog.


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