John Stuart Mill said it is better to be an unhappy human than a happy pig; but I would ask you: Is it better to be a happy human, or to possess an unhappy yet vastly more intelligent super-awareness? --Rexus Tarotte
Owl Who Laughs is an alter-ego of a poet-philosopher who is pretty persnickety in his own right. When diffracted through prisms in the UnderMind, his sensitivity and anger intensify to fuel the mini-jeremiads of Owl Who Laughs.
Perhaps the poet has made a Faustian bargain with the spirits. Maybe whatever faulty eloquence he musters comes at the price of nicks and sips to his soul.
Or maybe Truth is a harried creature, exiled by civilization, and long gone feral. It stares through the darkness of social deceit like a predator. Swoops down and relishes a morsel of joy as it indicts.
Beware. Owl Who Laughs does not guffaw like businessmen at a french restaurant or musically chuckle like belles at a soiree. The creature’s laugh is nigh on a screech. It is a forced alternative to the other option.
Read on only if you feel that the norm of sanity has gone blind.