Have you ever woken up short of breath, heart racing, mouth as if you had been chewing on cotton balls, to find the proverbial carrot on a stick so firmly embedded upon your forehead that you could no longer tell whether your consumerist drive emanated from some rational necessity within or was the result of some sick, pavlovian joke?
"Consume!" screams the man blaring from the idiot box as I shake off the remanence of material release.
Without even knowing the "new and improved" product being shoved down my throat, the necessity to wipe the saliva forming at the corner of my mouth suddenly becomes apparent—a realization which quickly threatens to turn spit to bile. Bombarded further by the relentless chatter clawing at my psyche, something deep within—a part of myself long forgotten—shrieked in protest sending chills up my spine and deep into my brain. Suddenly confused and disoriented, walls closing in, I stumbled haphazardly towards the bathroom in hopes that I could purge the vile