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It arrived in the post this morning, from Z. Pitying my sprained, swollen, purple ankle and inability to walk beyond the top of the road, he sent me a cd of clips of the nastiest scenes of sexual violence from horror films he owns.
the note read:
"to my Perfect Lacanian Pervert (PLP)*,
In lieu of the more traditional bunch of flowers, here is lots and lots of rape, picked especially for you."
How well he knows me; the adult equivalent of the teenage mixtape.
*perfect only in the sense that I fit the Lacanian profile of the pervert to a T. I would have been an excellent case study....
Edited Tue 15 Feb 11, 3:00 AM by verte
