I was watching the Chesire Murders on HBO last night.  I remember reading of that case sometime ago.  I disturbed me to a degree that I'm certsin others also reached.  I caught it halfway through.  Then I smoked some weed and watched the whole thing again.   I wanted to see everybody's face.  I wanted the entire profound effect.  I researched the latest developments in the death penalty phase, and caught some interviews with the killers.  I wanted to hear their words.  The younger one, I believe, is a pyschopath.  The bald one, I,ve been trying to grasp, how much he hates himself. I went to sleep thinking about the murderers.  It's much easier, the fascination with Man's ability to induce terror, than that moment for the victims, that it consumes your entire being.  A young girl burning alive.  A little girl raped on a cell phone video--how the fuck do you deal with that?   I woke up three times in the night.  I locked my windows, and checked on them.  Sometimes, maybe I thought I got up, but I was still dreaming.