ATTIC
NOTES
Michael
S. Love
I hate the texture of dying skin
and that's why I try to get rid of it
within a few days while it isn't
quite dead and it hasn't developed
that thick, rubbery sensation.
The earlier the better
in order to hold out the longest I've discovered.
The latter tend to lose the elasticity
the fastest by far.
I have looked into freezing to some extent
and I do think doing so quite fine.
Certainly wonderful when one finds his or herself
in a pinch but still much of the buoyancy is lost,
especially when being stored for a period of several months
or perhaps even longer.
Therefore I try to avoid such situations whenever possible.
As I said, best to be done with it all within a few days
otherwise unwanted situations tend to arise.
To be honest the most annoying and difficult thing
about the whole damn, bloody process
is removing all of the hair completely.
Nothing is more annoying than enjoying a fine meal
only to have a damned hair get caught in your throat!
For this I've found boiling the flesh to be of great benefit
with this conundrum but to be sure if you have plenty of time
it is always best to sit down and remove all of the hair
follicles by hand.
But earlier you were asking about when it all began.
It all started off as more of a personal thing.
By that I mean only with me, with myself.
At first I only cut a little here and maybe a little there.
It was just the sensation of it all!
Something different.
Something only.....mine and nobody could take it away from me.
No one.
And I didn't really know what to think or even whether or not I
really liked doing it.
Eating it.
But it was something I just knew I had to do.
It wasn't a “yes or no” choice.
It was a demand.
There's not really a
flavor, a taste to it.
At least not with me.
Better not plain....
We can put it that way.
Adding flavor came later out of my own curiosity
as well as from tips, “recipes” rather from others,
by that I mean fellow serial-killers.
“The burn.” That's
what
we like to call it.
If there could ever be said to be any flavor,
in the beginning I suppose one could say so in the blood.
A salty, zesty taste.
In the early days one tends to have bad episodes
with vomiting but time fades this as the stomach adapts.
This is the time when that burn intensifies
and it becomes the demand.
One that only self-infliction will satiate
or better with some new found flesh.
And there's always plenty out there!
You would be surprised at how easy it is to obtain.
Sometimes you can see it hanging there when you're lying in bed
battling your inner demons.
That lady from the other night still hanging on the hook.
Or maybe that asshole who got in the way.
It's hanging there. Perhaps in the garage
or maybe in a basement,
far away in the country where no one can hear anything
and the scent flies away with the cussing breeze.
So you lay there thinking about it.
Hell, it seems to call to you and maybe you're in one
of those fucked up states where you're not quite asleep
but you're not quite awake either and you hear it crying out to
you.
You're lying there with an erection or wet (laugh) if you're a
woman,
which does happen by the way!
Anyway, you're fucking aroused, you know what I'm sayin'?
You're salivating, wondering if it tastes just as good in sleep
as it does in the woken world.
Could it possibly taste better somehow?
Shit.
I don't even know if that makes any sense.
But you see it and you hear it.
You fucking smell it and taste it
and all you wanna do is get your ass
outta that bed and go to it!
Stroke it.
Lick it.
Taste it just one more time because you never know if it's gonna
be your last.
Fuck.
Flesh never tasted so good.
