That’s me, in 1989! Already I have the twinkle of Baby Jane in my eye. Already without any hope in my heart! Adorable.
But we all know that it takes a village. I was raised in a village that made mundane life seem like a series of little David Lynch films, which I can’t say hasn’t made itself pretty obvious pathologically by now.
Also, “bam, their skin doesn’t fit anymore.” “Leave him down.” “Sure, it’s no big deal.” “I just found out I was a synthetic baby.” A reference to incest? Oh, more incest. More incest? I’m not sure I even know how to cope with these, really.
(via jmax)
You’ve struck cultural gold!