3.3.07

cold showers

Writing is such a fucking process. And heres the fucking deal. I can't do it. When it comes to stacking the words just right or clicking slot A into slot B- I'm just no good. Stories?! Hah! Me and stories could have a child if I fucked authors and had coffee with literature professors while reading. I've been sitting here writing for two days and everything I've done is now gone. Like the easiest thing to do to kill my pain was right click a few times and let the white screen have its moment again. Aaaah.

It's Saturday and what have we done people? Coming on to 4:30 now and what? You're sitting here at your computer blogging?! [scoffs] well it's a way of life I suppose. It's something. I guess in the end I don't give a shit. I will never be one to wake up early, I will never be one to have a list of things to do, and even if I did my list would be wrong in a few ways I think. I like sleeping anyway, and my chaotic logic isn't so bad at times either.

The water heater keeps going out. This makes me not so happy, as you can imagine. We cant figure out what the hell is wrong with it. Maybe today ill find the number and call the guy over and dump ice cold water on his head then tell him where the water heater is. Hmm. I think I'll skip one of those steps.

I had a strange dream last night. Read closely. I'm only going to give you one part. And it's a very interesting one.

-theres a room at the top of the tower attached to the school. Can you see it from here? i walk through the halls, I can barely see. The windows have been painted over. I spiral up stairs and push through a door. Such a small room. Round with a single corner. There's a large bed taking up most of the room and on it are three people. Two boys. One girl. They stare at me over filthy sheets and laugh under their breath. The walls are dingy and boarded in places. All around are animal cages. I spot a bright plastic, tall rectangular cage and walk over to it. Its filled with mice. Some are dead, some are sick and some are healthy. there are three levels to the cage. I look into the top level and see a group of fat mice huddled together outside of their wooden home. They look cold so I put a sock next to them and they run in and go to sleep. I move to the second level and look in. there is one single living mouse in here, she looks old and frail and she's struggling to keep warm, huddled up next to the skeleton of a dead mouse. She's a pretty gray color. I put a sock into the cage where she is and she limps inside. Looking back at the skeleton. The bottom level is the weirdest. I look in and don't see much. But I do see scattered bodies in varying shades of decomposition all around the ground. Skeletons, shriveled leathery bodies and soft sweet smelling gently rotting mice. As I put a sock in a whole bunch of naked baby mice come running out of the house pilling everywhere and going into the sock. The mother comes out after, a warm cream color and follows. I look around the room and see a square shelf high up in the corner. I decide right then that that's where I will put the cage, so that they will be safe. As I think this and image tears through my brain. Two steel cages coming together with rats inside. As the cages touch the rats start spilling into each others cages. Intertwining and tumbling together, like some sick dance or embrace. I shake my head and its gone.

After that one I had a dream of the Philippines. Im not going to go into it. But I will say:

-that was one of the most beautiful oceans I have ever seen and such a green color.

-The hole I fell into full of religious trinkets covered in gold was making me claustrophobic. Tiny little clay men and phantom candle light.

-The backyard…I had almost forgotten how it looked when the rain was sheeting like that.

-And the phone telling me it was collect from Hong Kong to Japan. Please be aware of policy 22.

I need to eat.

And turn the water heater back on.

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