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The Voices That Pour Into My Ears

Tonight I uploaded a few more photos into the TOK album. As I uploaded the one I titled "I will not forget you" -- a thought popped into my head.

When I blog, I put loud music in. For the longest it's been every KORN album I own, set to repeat. I've discussed this before. I need that wall of sound because I cannot focus with so much outside stimuli drowning out my thoughts. The last few entries have been set to the soundtrack of TOK and with my modestly good headphones I can feel these driving beats in my throat.

Every song begins with something TOK said. At one point, he remarks how he's become a legend designed to scare naughty children. And that is where the thought popped into my head tonight.

I wrote Monster in a series of journal entries spanning about two weeks, if I remember correctly. Constraints of regular life restricted my ability to get it out any faster...in this time frame, two years ago, I finished the story where the Monster wonders if he is doomed to become a legend designed to scare naughty children into behaving.

When I watched the movie I remember hearing those lines and feeling more chilled than I already was, steeped in such a horrific experience. Now I know why. And now I worry that the similarities of those two instances will not sit well with the creator of TOK, even though it was completely and totally coincidental.

"I remember the kids in the school yard talking about me. I became a legend you thought was made up to keep kids from behaving badly. But now you know different."

"I was a throwback; a forgotten legend....one of those monsters the lowborne mothers threaten naughty children with."

So. There it is. Maybe if he reads he'll notice, and maybe not. I noticed because I have a thing for recognizing voices and faces, and accents, because its something I like. If I hear someone talking in a movie, but I don't see them, I can very possibly tell you 3 other movies they've been in. It's a fluke I guess.
TOK has an amazingly voice, believably tortured, anguished, rich -- full of barely controlled rage. Calm. Every time he spoke, I held my breath to be sure I heard every word because it was the perfect match for a deranged pyschopath hell bent on revenge and that was amazing.

And now, I return to the relative safety of my nest, to curl up and manipulate an image for a few moments before my body tells me, in terms that cannot be argued with, that I need to go to sleep or else.



February 2014

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