T R U T H

The jungle metaphor is wretched. Concrete jungle, lipstick jungle, the human zoo - all talking about developed living space as if clusters of humans packed into "artificial" habitat makes us prey on the weak and channel cheetahs like white teeth do under a black light. Some guy just killed himself via partial decapitation from losing control of his toy helicopter. Should we be coming up with a simile here about dying in the forest? I read through some Christian Grey dialog trying to get what sets it apart from Sorority Sex Diary and I lost interest after the first few pages. It must be about new imaginations for the first time. I was 12 once and spicy talk with saucy descriptors made for long hours flipping pages. Not inferring that people who like 50 Shades are like 12 year olds but the home where I roam is so absent of gritty, fugly negatories that I can't hold back the accolades and can't get far enough away from the hurtful crime disgusting stuff in The Jungle. Great rhapsodies come out of a palate of beauty. Say ah!

Full disclosure - I'm too lazy to read even the free preview of 50 Shades. It has nothing to do with anti-fugly point here. Solid 8s today; still looking for inspiration to write about. Any muses out there?