Black, sure, but not a black comedy. I tried to mould it, shape it, and I am sure it could be done. I could make it fit into something that could be vaguely funny, but perhaps it is fine as it is. Not funny. Not at all funny. There is longing and disgust and violence and sorrow and for some reason I just can't find the funny side of any of it. It might just be my mood. Sex is usually a riot.
maybe when I start the next story, the one about the corpse, maybe I will start from a moment of comedy, how to get a flaccid penis inside you. How to make his arm hug you tight. There must be a funny side to all this and sometimes I wonder if it is inherently funny, this running after a dog. Maybe this kind of desire is funny in and of itself despite how I am responding to it right now. Maybe it is just my mood, finding the dark side of everything. I sit through a comic movie and I nod. I understand it is amusing. I know where it is clever and where it has heart and yet I do not crack a smile, not even once.
I wonder what is wrong with me. But of course I know. I won't sink too low because I recognise it when it hits, but still, I am not sure if it is funny.