[via irritainment2000.blogspot.com]

Sometime between my twelfth life-shattering revelation of the morning, my two hundred and thirteenth lap around my bedroom, and noticing the eighth secret pattern hidden among the other, more obvious patterns in my fractal wall calendar (It was August. It’s always August. Why do they always place the best image in August? August sucks.), I decided to slump down, in an ethereal haze, in front of my laptop and put on Belong’s October Language. She had made a cocoon out of my fuzzy blankets, a chrysalis in a comforter, and was busying herself with the task of completely forgetting that anything existed, so I really carried no qualms about changing the songs up a bit. Besides, I was in some sort of semi-poisoned state and was fervently compelled to find the album for reasons that are still beyond me. I reasoned that if I did not put this album on, I would spend my entire life trapped in some sort of personal Hell, contained forever within the walls of my room, forced to spend every waking moment in intense mental pain and anguish.