To have spoken freely

There are basics that some seem incapable of communicating, agreeing on; structure must be imposed, usually from without the understanding than from within it. It makes perfect sense, yet it's not the love that was wanted. We are primates howling fits of gloom and joy towards and past one another.  

No, wait. I am reading Philip Roth's My Life as a Man. It is in part about marriage, sex, and wounded prides. A trinity of trifles and grievances. There are other themes, but those jump out. 

Well, I started writing that two weeks ago or more and that was as far as I got.

I'm reading Houellebecq's The Map and the Territory now. My life is just a series of laughs and giggles.

Perhaps CS chose a better way of conducting this: behind a mask, at night, with all of Gotham and Wayne Industries to hide behind, from which to launch attacks of uncertain motivation.  It is safer to maintain tenable deniability. 

Denial is the surest evidence of crime. What could be more indicative of guilt? There is witch-catching weather in the winds. Everywhere. My thoughts have nothing to do with themselves. 

I felt young then my memory started to fade. I'm not the person I was seven seasons ago, I insist and repeat. Something cracked, split the billion year old carbon. 

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