pulp beaten

There's something unsettling about the look of a man in a blood lust. The roll of his eyes, the uneasy, crushing grip in his hand. This is particularily upsetting if that person is delivering your newspaper. I shouldn't be frightened to get the morning papers, but the young man who's been delivering the news to me for the past few weeks is obviously not comfortable with the late/early hours. Most disturbing was his delivery of the New York Times on Sunday, for those of you who don't know, the Sunday New York Times is a gargantuan feat of publishing, weighing the same as a small phone book. I saw, through the peephole of my door a man who was deep into the throes of a blood lust, a man who wanted to hurt people who know how to read.