when you're the crab climbing out of the pot, all you see are the claws below you.

there is something not right about this town.

i've known this for a while, but every once in a while, the knowledge creeps up on me again, or, rather, makes itself blatantly obvious. it's like resident evil, really, a whole town full of zombies (i know, i know, that's actually resident evil 2, but still, the point remains). we used to talk at length about denton being the hellmouth (because it IS), and it just amazes me that such a large part of the population can be so... lost.

maybe it's like this everywhere, but i'd prefer to believe that the demoralization of the youth of america exists in isolated pockets, that there are other towns or cities where the living far outnumber the undead.

there are dormitories and coffee houses that only the dead frequent; streets and shadows where the living dare not go. and yet summoning the memory of the town is more likely to leave one with the aftertaste of melancholy, rather than disgust or strong rebellion. this town is a quiet, violent place, where everyone always mourns.