The kind of fish swimming in the deepest depths of the ocean are strange creatures indeed. They not only look weird, they're built weirdly as well (though I know the term "weird" is relative). They probably won't win any beauty contests, but who cares? There's no light down there and nobody to admire their looks anyway. Their prey sure as hell don't care!
Thing is, living kilometers and miles and fathoms deep beneath the sea's surface is one of their prerequisites for life. They not only thrive under tons and pounds of pressure, they actually need it to live.
Bring the bastards to the surface, where there's considerably less pressure, and they die.
Do you see where I'm headed with this? Good. Please tell me.
All I know is it's nearly 5AM here and I haven't done doodly squat nearly all night. Staring blankly at the screen, knowing I have lots of writing to do (for sites I ♥ to bits and pieces, both old and new) but the damned words won't flow! They're all chasing each other, having a rapturous orgy in the grey matter up there. And they won't let me in on the fun. Bastards.
Leaving me like a fish floundering out of the water, flopping here and there, eyes staring into nothing, lips smacking pitifully, in sync with each rise and fall of a chest gasping for breath.
Too much pressure? Or a lack of it?
Suddenly, I'm hungry for seafood.
*Borrowing Odat's 'n shit phrase. (She loves monkeys, by the way.)