I just freaked myself out.
could tell you, I've been obsessing about cannibalism for a week or so now. It started with a crappy bit of fic in my head, and it has not quite reached book-buying stage, but I have been reading bits and pieces. (Actually, I was reading about serial killers a couple of weeks back - I forget why... no, I was reading wikipedia for QI and there was a link and so on. And I just finished knitting this hat
which I saw a while back and thought was awesome. Still have to block it and sew bits, though.) Anyway, I'm fairly comfortable with my weirdness, morbidness, etc.
On the bus today, coming back from getting drugs (god, drugs! I ran out two days ago and yesterday was curled up in bed sweating ridiculously, and I managed to force myself to class but my inner thermostat was fucked, and then I ended up staying up all night so I would get drugs today) I started thinking about a story that starts, "The first time I knowingly ate human flesh..." and so when I got home I had to start writing it.
That's not what freaked me out. One of the other people is essentially my brother-in-law - not that you can tell from what's written, which is only about 400 words, but the one character point he has, yeah, that's where he came from - and I just implied that they later killed and ate him. And my POV character only comments on the loss of his cooking skills. Actually, the whole roast dinner is inspired by the meal we had at their house last weekend. (At the end of that visit, sister commented that I had "hardly said a word," which ties in with last post somewhat; but I was comfortably quiet, for most of it, just didn't really have anything to say, especially since I was already on the cannibal track.)
Anyways! Stuff, me, has been up and down, therapy has been happening and I hate it but that probably means it's working, progress on the flat is slow (but the other day I tidied what was hopefully the last big mess, a pile of dust and ash, and wound up with black snot), also I bought a Logic Puzzles magazine and have been obsessing over that somewhat. Had a 'talk' with parentals at the weekend which may or may not have helped; complained that dad said fuckall and got about two words out of him, that sort of thing.
Also Miriam gave me copies of "Murder Ballads" by Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, which is my latest play-over-and-over-and-over, which probably is not leading to a brain full of sweetness and light, but it's such fun, especially "The Curse of Millhaven".
Anyway, I have achieved, I went out and I have made stuff and I have even written a little for the first time in aaaaaaages, so, go me! and now I shall sleep, if I can.