Friday, July 28, 2006

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Sunday, July 02, 2006

wierd dream.

my mom was yelling at my dad and my brothers and me, all the while i was barely paying attention and playing with a leaf with catterpillars. it was in some kind of concrete room with three walls, like a train station, and there were tracks on the other side with walls. the caterpillars were doing some wierd stuff and i realized it was molting and pretty soon it grew bigger and had eyes. it was so disgusting and i'd wanted to throw it away, but i was also curious to find out what it would become since i was so sure the next time it molted would be the last. they looked shriveled up, twitching, and so i ran out into my backyard and got violets leaves because the milkweed was all dead and drenched in cobwebs all the while my mom yelling screaming at us. she unveiled something on the wall against the railroad tracks, a long message saying why she's leaving, because she hated the carpeting company, the sofa company, how she was stuck with my dad and two second-rate children, and how we weren't so pretty in seperate cages, whatever that meant. and with tears we begged her to stay and asked when she would leave and she said the carpeting company was just way, too, much and that she had no idea, maybe a year, maybe two, maybe sooner, and that she didn't know where she would go. and because the whole place turned out to be a hotel, we went down the hallway to find the right stairs and leave, when we bumped into a man who was in a rush and directed us to a staircase just behind some very scared people and a man with a gun. immediately we realized we were in a bad place and we put our hands up all except my littlest brother who was three. he pointed his gun at us, then back at the people on the staircase and my little brother walked closer to the man and behind him there was a door to another staircase and the man pointed it at my little brother who just laughed and we were yelling then screaming at him to get behind the door which he did. i tried running in after him but stopped short when the man pointed the gun at me and he was about to shoot too when in a moment of confusion it took me a while to realize he wasnt going to kill me anymore, he'd just switched it around and was holding it against his forehead. staring at us, eyes wild and insane, sweating blood, he pulled the trigger and bam, we were running to the door to look for my brother and i caught a glimpse of the ceiling which had a red lump of what, part of a brain, except they were red and i knew they were my brains because i was the last one he'd pointed the gun to and down the stairs, the second flight, were my brothers shoes perfectly neat and down on the third, the bottom, there he was, safe and happy, still wearing that annoying grin, and we went back up to look for the right stairs again where i realized my brains were still blown out and how am i alive and moving and still thinking?we got up and where the man died there was surprisingly little blood and leaving, i asked my mom if she saw any, your know, grey matter, and she said yes, she did, and as we walked away from the scene, from behind, i watched them, watched us heading home.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Yay.

Somewhere along the line, I'm happy with myself now. Except when I'm being yelled at, or something like that. I'm not a happiness generating machine. But somehow, I'm happy with myself and I love the world because everything is perfect and inperfection just is how it is and can't be any other way because it is perfect. Thinking it should be any other way makes it an imperfect thought, which is also perfect, because there's no such thing as imperfection as long as things are the way they are.

If that made sense.

I love nonsense.
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