When I went home recently, I ended up dragging my mom and brother along to a small art gallery. It was weird, bizarre, and totally awesome… in my opinion.
Me, after we had left: Aren’t you glad we stopped here?
Mom and Ian gave me dubious looks.
Me: You broadened your artistic horizons!
Ian: I gained fuel for my nightmares.
Me: You can use it for your stories!
Ian: I don’t tend to write about human experimentation.
Me: That’s what you got out of that? I got aliens.
Me: Hooray for the magic of subjectivity of art!
Me: I can see where you’re coming from, though. Like, a futuristic piece on the perils of human experimentation? Or the perils of allowing aliens to experiment on us.
Ian: I could write about that, maybe. Go all Steven King.
Me: Do it.
Ian: I mean, it has all the necessary elements: horror, creep factor--
Me: I do tend to associate supernatural elements with him.
Ian: Yeah! Like in Carrie, with the weird telepathy thing. Ghosts and everything in The Shining.
Me: See? Going there was totally a good idea.
Ian just sighed.
Me: You’re welcome.
I have no idea what I'm doing.