Crisis
Afterword (One year, 9 months)
I feel like Selma from Dancer in the Dark. I feel like when – There really ought to be two separate narratives in the movie: one, the harrowing life endured by Selma as she tries to save her son, and two, the harrowing process endured by Björk as she played Selma. The two narratives occur side by side but are not synchronous – so, like Selma in prison, crying and singing a gut-wrenching version of "My Favorite Things", right after Björk did in David Morse with a safebox. Screw you, Mr. von Trier, Mr. Antichrist, screw you – but it's thanks to you the story happened.
At the time I was writing "Crisis", I was reading Death Note and coasting along in Lit. Now? I don't know, but I'm a lot less sympathetic to the writer. I suppose it's how an inexperienced anatomist feels when they see only a mass of glistening meat inside. There's no joy in it – dissecting Literature and finding the same old thing, the only substance with enough vinegar to change being prejudice. Obviously I'm quite bitter right now!
If any of my friends or fellow writers want to do a more uplifting afterword, they need only apply at the e-mail address on my profile.