also; why didn't batman ever start like, a pro-vigillente lobby? he is rich you know.
i have this sickness. where i need to write down all the pretty words that i can think of. lately, i've been tacking them to d&d. cenobite here, dragoon there; thats the sort of thing. i wrote up some preliminary statistics for the arachne people, & i drew a better map of the vellic confederacy. i wish i understood more about water tables. or that i was more comfortable on jenny's computer. because maybe i feel like it is time to start moving from the "wild incoherancy" phase to having a sort of coherent thread stitching things together. working at the table in the living room is better than jenny's desk i think. i mean, i can take the computer anywhere in the apartment that i want, so ah- why don't i?
& uh- i dream about huge black creatures, shells that hover & tentacles that drag below them. they litter horizons, size unreadable. purpose or sense is pretty hard to impose over it, but it seems to cycle with the repeating chasm. its always night out, like some dumbass movie about the toothfairy that defys the ability of a white suburban kid like me to suspend my disbelief. for heaven's sake, i am, as far as i can figure, this movies demographic. & i will like practically any piece of shit film, which includes my pre-emptive "can't wait!" rating for charlie's angels 2. though in all fairness to me, this opinion is largely based on the inclusion of bernie mac & crispen glover being a crazy pinstripe villian in the first one. basically what i'm saying is all the barren vistas of dream are a paltry price to pay to live in a world that can produce i, spy.
tonight i am going to dream about tilling the thirsty earth & sowing spearheads into the furrows. come morning i expect a full harvest of a legion of warriors, eyes fierce & wroth. brooklyn, dawn breaks hard tommorow on you. thats my plan & i expect the morpheum-plasm to step lively. either that or i will turn into a green man named the sleepwalker & baffle everyone.