I had a hilarious dream that I was watching some 80s style literary summary kids' cartoon -- you know the sort, like an animated Wishbone, like your Don Coyote and Sancho Panda types... this one was about a ghost, who was friends with a little girl, who traveled through time and space to help her with her homework.  It may have been an imported cartoon, for there was much about it that felt stilted.

Anyway, I found out that for some reason this cartoon had an episode about Anais Nin and I was like OMGWAT because I can't fathom Anais Nin being fathomable to the Saturday Morning Cartoon crowds, or really that acceptable to their parents.  What the hell can they say about Anais Nin in some G-rated, cartoonish and friendly way?  

Apparently, something.  The dialogue was very stilted and overly wrought, too grammatically lilting.  I wasn't sure if this was to prove the point that she wrote in strange and lyrical purple prose, to embody the sensitive and sensual but still elegant womanly writing-thing of hers or what.  And the animation quality was horrible.  But that may just be a product of its era. 

The episode ended up being something like ANAIS NIN AND FRIENDS.  This is Ian Hugo, he's Anais Nin's husband and he is a film maker.  This is Henry Miller, he is Anais Nin's friend and he is a writer.  Oh, this is June Miller and she is friends with everyone.  These are pictures of her parents, they were both musicians. :D LOOK AT HOW MANY FRIENDS ANAIS NIN HAS. YAY.  

I'm lol'd forever.

*_* Wow.

Today, rather, Thursday, was a very good and epic day for me. I didn't sleep the night before, but I napped for about three hours this morning. I had dreams, lovely ones.

I dreamed that the Editor, chiave_trust and I were locked away in some kind of religious reformatory as punishment for insanity (think like the Magdalene Asylums of Ireland). And we had had enough. There was a boy's reformatory next door, and we'd plotted to escape with a few fellows there. And so, I had a gun. I held up those bastard nuns and forced our way out, chiave_trust following along silently behind ... but not weakly. I think something more, like an Anthy, perhaps. All of a sudden, a man came out of nowhere -- an older man, presumably of some kind of paternal-like relationship to the Editor... an air of controlling intimidation/manipulation hung about him and he cornered her and began to speak in hushed tones, foul words and curses, trying to put her down and keep her locked away. I edged near, but didn't interrupt; it was knowing. As I came close enough, she yanked the gun out of my hand and pointed it at the man and made him back away, asserting herself again. Absolutely necessarily. All of a sudden, the wall to the right of us (of a courtyard) was crashed through by a shining pink Cadillac. Out came the boys we'd planned our escape with. I got the gun back somehow. Somehow, they'd also found a midget. We nodded knowingly. It was intended at first to be more of a girl's solace, but the extra male company was not deterring. We had agreed to form a poet's colony. I aimed the gun at the nuns out the driver's side window just to keep them at bay, (I also was driving, the Editor beside me, the men in the back.. no bullets were ever fired, and it was not planned to have anyone killed) and then... then we drove out the front gate. On to the future, to freedom, to a poet's colony off somewhere in the vastness of liberty.

And now that I've written it down like that, the amount of Utena influence in that is remarkable, eh?

The other dream... ah. I'd gone to the movies with blackmagesteve to see a new Nolan-Batman feature. It wasn't a full movie, it was a mixture of cut experimental scenes from TDK and a few things leading into the new planned flick, Gotham City. The opening scene was Two-Face (because he didn't die) talking to his gang, set up like the last supper. Incidentally, that is pretty spot on for him, being the dawn and salvation sacrifice figure, ne ne? Most of the rest of it was loosely related scenes of the Joker (by Ledger, naturally), mostly experimental scrapped footage. Some of it had a Harley Quinn CG'd in -- Nolan was trying to envision what it'd be like for this Joker to have that kind of adorant accomplice. There was little Batman footage at all. After the movie, blackmagesteve and I went to dinner at a fancy restaurant to discuss the film and whatnot. We were in a city like New York or Chicago or Philadelphia, really, a pseudo-Gotham... and given my typical adventure spirit and impulsive energy, I found an amusingly abandoned but dimly lit warehouse on our walk back to home, and decided we should peek in on a whim! He relented... and inside, there was a crime being committed... by a familiar kind of rogue, an eerie laugh, and bullets flying haphazardly about. We weren't seen, but we quietly and quickly got away... anxiously. It was cool!

Ah, after that, when I got up at around 12 or so, I decided I would go hang out with killerzerox. I got to her place by riding my brand new electric motorscooter (I got there at four because I was scared to actually ride it). I LOVE IT. It's cherry red, and way too big and powerful for me. It goes so fast it frightens me. It's incredibly quiet, so if pedestrians are in the bike lane (jerks) and I need to pass them I have to honk REALLY LOUD at even eight feet away because they can't hear me. It has an alarm. I've named it The Shark accordingly, in tribute to Hunter S. Thompson. This was my first time riding it out, and my mom said I shouldn't go around riding it at night until I've gotten used to it and had it for two months, but I ended up doing so. Incredible, for a first go. Zooming around on it, honestly, I feel absolutely ace. I want to get a light for the backside of it, just for safety, yeah. I'm surprised at that kind of thing, you've got to go fast just to keep balance, just to keep alive... it's a rush and not at all what I'm used to. This is forcing me to be less reticent and to trust myself, and I pretty much remembered all my forgotten years of bike safety in 15 minutes. Riding at night is a bit scary, though. I'm getting my helmet tomorrow. She was afraid to try to ride it herself.

What did we do while we were out? First we decided to get some boba. Then Katie got a job. I wanted to cheer Katie up, and so how lucky is that that she got a job the first place she went with me, eh? Then we wandered around looking for a store that sold kava. There was an incredibly cute and charming young pharmacist working at the counter, but he apologized and said they didn't carry it, but knew exactly what I was looking for. He said we should go to an independent pharmacy. (What does that even mean?) I thought of Bill Lee going on a quest for yage, because a storm decided to directly fly into us like raaaaar. We ducked into a music store. We ducked into a smoke shop that didn't sell kava. Then we ran and ducked into a piercing shop, run by some guys who had both a rainbow flag and a BDSM flag on their door. Those guys are great, and made me happy. I love kink-friendly businesses. Then we went to a comic shop. They didn't carry Dazzler, and they didn't carry Sebastian O (or any other "dandy"-type comics) but they had a big box of 25 cent comics and we got half an armful for pretty cheap. Then we went to a bus stop to get to another store that might have kava, and there was an odd fag at the bus stop who chatted with us. He talked without direction, without aim, of heaven and hell and cocks and race and heretherewhere and travel. I guess I dinged off on his gaydar, and he told me about the gay-friendly neighborhoods of Italy and asked a few times if killerzerox was my partner and told me I could do better. Er. But we did get away, eventually. Bus crazies, y'know? We were exhausted.

I got the kava. I think I'll sleep well.

I can't really bring myself to talk about the brain issues except in private correspondence now. Eh.

QUICKLY, said my brother, gesturing towards me from across the street. QUICKLY, there is no time to explain. Can't you see, I've got Vincent Black Shadow!

Naturally, I saw the enormously menacing machine growling from beneath him, and ran towards him. A jerk in my muscles contracted. I sat up in bed. I looked at the clock. Shit! It's only six AM! What am I doing awake?! I don't know what day it is, but I can't think of a damn better thing to do than Vincent Black Shadow.

I reorient myself beneath the sheets, falling back into sleep and dreams of journeying cross-country on an epic motor vehicle. VROOM.

...

I jerk up in bed again, awakened by my ringing door bell. The red letters across the room read roughly 10 AM. 10 AM, isn't it Saturday? Screw this noise, I CAN'T WAKE HERE, THIS IS BAT COUNTRY. ringringringring. The man can let them in. ringingknockring. Where is the goddamn man!? Finally, I embarked to the doorway, glaring through the slats of my window. A contract of mine awaits.

"Hey... wasn't this meeting for Sunday? You're a day early!"
"... today is Sunday."
"..." :C
"Go get dressed, our client is waiting."

I know how my brother, the international playboy and contract professional feels now. Someday, I will be like him, only I'll leave this damn town.

Either way, I got paid, and I did good work, and it was exactly how I wished it to be. Also, I am allegedly malnourished.

Also, in disturbingly seriously news I MIGHT BE HAVING HORRIBLE NEUROLOGICAL PROBLEMS. THREE BLACKOUTS IN A MONTH. NOT ALL FROM ALCOHOL, FOR THAT MATTER. Three periods of having no recollection, but apparently to others, sounding reasonably articulate and communicative, spanning each about an hour... that is very scary. It would be one thing if I changed personality and sounded totally gone and didn't remember things (lol, you lush), but from what I'm hearing, I'm saying things that are entirely in character for myself THAT I CANNOT RECALL FOR THE LIFE OF ME. What the hell is happening to me? Am I dying? I'm so seriously terrified to go to a doctor. I'm only doing it because my best friend wishes it.

I kind of theorize that I am beginning for find existence so dissatisfying that my body is literally rejecting it and shutting it down so I can go back to trekking on Vincent Black Shadow. Forever.

No more of this world. I want to face the Gods.

Tomorrow is my first day of school.

It was the present, because the buses are like they only became a few months ago, but I was a uniformed school girl.

There were internet communities about cats that talked locally on LiveJournal. One girl made a post about overdosing or underdosing a sick pet, and which would be more detrimental to a cat's health...

A girl responded that her cat had been prescribed a sedative that is also used for humans, and by accident she always ended up taking a large dose herself and feeding the remainder of the bottle to her afflicted cat. She complained that after she gave her cats the drug, they turned "evil" and she was forced to surgically remove their hearts to stop the "evil" from spreading.

She bemoaned that three of her cats had gone "evil" because they hadn't been given enough medication, and encouraged people not to under-medicate their pets.

Nobody wanted to comment.

I caught a glimpse of her at an IRL meeting for the group, but I didn't stick around. I'm somehow still not bothered by anything about the dream.

lulz.

I had a dream that pyro and I trolled LJ. Hard. We joined some major communities, one of us would make a post, and then the other would leave a bad snarky comment, thus unleashing the wankfest of LJ. The goal was to appeal on otf_wank. After that, pyro bahleeted his LJ in the ultimate flouce for a while, just to see everyone mske a fuss.

A+++ would dream again.

AUGH!!! I had a dream a while ago, and I don't know whether or not I dared to post it, where I had settled down and gotten married and for some reason I'd gotten pregnant and had a baby (I don't want to, really, and neither does anyone I'd marry) and I didn't really notice after that. Seriously. Everyone else I knew rushed in to take care of my baby for me, so I never had to do any mothering and pretty much carried on with my life as if I'd never even been pregnant. Then, I left for a few years to study in another country, came back, and my baby who was now somewhere between 4 and 9 years old had had a baby. I didn't really care, and neither did anyone else, they all just kinda happily and mindlessly took care of this new child too, and no one seemed to wonder how she got pregnant in the first place; they were raised as sisters. Later, I was going for a walk with my daughter and granddaughter across some train tracks, and it suddenly dawned on me: what the hell is going on? what has become of my life? why the hell does my daughter have a daughter? why did I have a daughter? ...All of that. And I cried.

And then, to last nights' dream: I HAD A SEQUEL. Maybe a prequel. Maybe an equal.... I don't know!! I was living a happy life, going out on the town with a friend every now and then, going out dancing like John Travolta and Uma Thurman (really. and John Travolta had a dance off with the Hulk in an Elvis imitation contest) and the like. Then, one night on the town, I felt bloated and cramped and was in general pain.... we rushed to the nearest hospital, and I was on the operating table, and I panickedly asked the surgeon: "What's going on?! Am I pregnant!?" The surgeon responded: "You're about nine months too late for that, you're in labor." WTF. And then I delivered a baby. I didn't really think much about it. My mom stepped in, later, after I'd gotten home, and insisted she'd raise the baby for me so I could go on with my education. About a little over a year or two later, I spent a night awake trying to figure out and remember: did I deliver a baby? Two babies? Was I pregnant? What ever happened to those babies...? I finally resolved that I must have had two babies, and decided to ask my mom what the hell was going on. So one night, my mom was driving my little sister and I somewhere, and I asked her what had happened to my daughter and my other daughter, finally breaking the code of silence surrounding the fact that I'd somehow reproduced. "Oh, you mean Angelica and her baby?" Oh. My daughter's name was Angelica, and she'd had the other infant, not me. "I gave them away, once you gave them over to me, I thought I could do whatever I wanted to since you weren't going to do anything." AND I WAS PISSED. WHAT THE HELL? Also, why did I forget? Why was I conceited enough to name my daughter Angelica?

Why is there continuity in this particular thread of my subconscious?


auuuuuuuugh.

Oh, and you? If you were a real person and not plagued by being horribly written, I might have a crush on you. fgsfds.

I started out a Princess; "the video game hero's girlfriend" is a role I quickly identified myself with in grade school. Believing in fighting for what's right, the truth, love, friendship, beautiful things. There is inevitably the capacity for a happy ending in any story, after all. All one has to do is to believe in what one desires with all of one's heart to obtain it. If the hero's heart is true, then he will overcome adversity. And I Will Be Saved. I Will Live Happily Ever After. Everyone I Love Can Live Happily Ever After.

Dreams Come True.

I still believe all that bullshit. I believe in striving for ideals, and I believe with enough will, anything can be accomplished. And unlike many of my friends in growing up, I always found Love, and I never stopped believing in it. I've never had to settle or drown or abandon hope. What the hell? Even in times when all other signs would point to the end, I've always had my idealism redeemed. My continued belief in love was always rewarded. And I do not know why I, of anyone, deserved to be the one not beaten into being jaded. Certainly, to an extent, I have become blameless and my ongoing idealism tends to absolve me and protect me. (Why yes, I am self-absorbed.)

Thanks to the wonders of literature, philosophy, mythology, and consistent affirmation, something shifted. From this naïve "save me" idealism, I grew into this high-flung, high-strung "Savior" idealism. While maintaining the same basic beliefs as the Princess Idealism, this takes a totally different form. I stand such that I can save the world simply through the pursuit of Ideals. By preserving my own belief in Happily Ever After, I can bring those I love most happily ever after. My own life (not yours, not hers) becomes moot unless I continue to strive for and protect true love and beauty! And I read Nietzsche, and espoused disappointment that so many others had had this hope beaten and berated out of them, and had had ambition pummeled into submission and disappointment! And of course, it sounds as if I condemn everything and everyone, and find it all pointless, but all I really mean to do is to praise the surviving dreamers and call any of those with even a glimmer of hope back into action! And I use exclamation points, shocking language (the tragic masses), and discourses on society to do all of this, and it comes off as dark aesthetically and stark... but anyone who listens long enough, beyond the sighs and ellipses tends to see I am still so much a romantic, a believer, a sentimentalist. And I identified with those brooding intellectuals who stew so hard in their thoughts and dreams that they lose touch with the world and become madmen and break from the norm, often chaotically. Beautiful madmen! Reality doesn't matter so long as I have a vision!

When I explain it this way, the princess and the Dostoevskian pseudo-scholar no longer seem so distant. It's a rather explicable place to be. It's merely dreaming thrust to an extreme extent. She said I hadn't really changed, but the way I approach others has, and this is simply that. I still want to make your dreams come true. I still want to help you have that happy ending. I still love you, and always will.

In some ways, this is where the Orpheus comes in; this princely, blessed, dreamy little poufter who sings and sentimentalizes all day, and finds true love, and then uses his poet-powers and belief in these idealistic things to change the will of the gods to get what he feels would be a happier ending than that otherwise given. And then he over thinks it, and fucks it all up by dwelling on the impossibility of his hopes too much. In this contemplation, stumbling, losing grip and after his failure, he bemoans, but does not relent even when he is being wrought to pieces at the end. There were other figures in this story I desire to incorporate or maintain; a shining hero, a love interest and other such things...

I write this entry to remind myself of myself. I no longer see myself. I know what has drawn others to me; this idealistic outlook, the dream, and the romance, and the refinement, the culture and the intellect. Words that I have repeated thoughtlessly without consideration for a while. Others have continued to see these things, but I have neglected them in myself for some time. I have not touched my lyre. And he reminds me that I am one of those people left who see the beauty in the world, that I am worth knowing and believing in -- yet he hardly knows me. But he knows enough; he sees what I have forgotten to see in myself. My life is meaningless without the pursuit of these Ideals, and I allowed them to become dusty. No one else seemed to notice, fortunately. I must remember what is at the core of my being. I have longed to write but lacked the heart to, and that is because I have locked away my own heart. In order to continue living, my heart must beat again, I must live, I must create and imagine and invent.

I guess I ought to get around to reading all those things I lacked the luster to for a while, as well.

Lack, seeking completion. My back.
Seeking protection, for the one I love.

It burns; it's supposed to burn.
That's how I know I'm strong.

I do not think you can find completion in another person; it's something from the outside.

Odd. I dreamt I was in high school again -- this happens a lot. Symbols are popping up -- me being lost in high school again, and also me living in my old house. Tonight was high school.


( So... )

Instead, I woke up.

I had a dream that I got really laid in a dream last night.  It was hot.  It felt real...It was an incubus, or some astral male being...we had a Cupid and Psyche thing going on, he would vanish the second I tried to open my eyes and look at him.

I've been meta-dreaming a lot lately.  Dreaming about dreaming, or dreaming and then realizing "oh, this isn't real, I must be dreaming!" but going along with it anyway, because it's interesting.  Like my petite soeur.  I miss her a little, even though she doesn't exist and never has...I am almost tempted to make a post to therosemansion telling her that I miss her, or an application simply stating "I dreamed of you once." 

Lately, I've noticed a tendency of everything to suggest I listen to "All:My:Faults," people with taste I agree with recommending them to me, so I guess I should investigate that.

I dreamt about WoW again; they'd released wireless figures that you could plug in a base to the USB port for, mostly of female characters, and they'd match your characters movements, so you could watch them fight and walk around and whatnot.  I picked up a female Draenei of course, right away, but the male Draenei were only being released in limited editions.  I managed to get one and made a male Draenei and wondered how he managed not to topple over from being so top heavy. 

Kept having the same unsettling dream;
g4jewsus and meloncolliepoet kept molesting me, or trying to.  I found myself laying in bed and then I'd feel someone sitting at the edge of my bed, but I wouldn't want to look.  First it was g4jewsus, and then I felt someone on top of me and I'd look up, but couldn't see the facial features clearly in the dark.  He didn't notice when I looked up at him, presuming I was still asleep or something, until I mistook him for meloncolliepoet and grabbed his arm.  He froze a moment, and my hand traced the outline of his face and I could identify him.  He quickly got up and shut the door behind himself.  A few minutes later, another figure approached me, sat at the edge of my bed, and then leaned down close.  It was meloncolliepoet, I was sure of it, and I moved; not enough to give away I was awake, but enough to freak him out and he left.  The pattern repeated itself; a few minutes later he knelt at the side of my bed, gazing at me; I twitched, and he hid against the wall in the darkness.  I woke up every time this happened for a few minutes before going back to sleep.  I kept feeling someone at the foot of my bed, sitting down, but I was never sure it was real or just me repeating what just happened.  At one point, I thought it may have been a rat crawling through the bed, though I doubted the possibility that a rat could be in this house; it's a really nice house.  I got up to look at myself in the mirror; I had strange pink marks on my stomach, and a rat, it seemed, fell out of my shirt.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to see a rat so I felt behind myself, and the creature I touched was a rat; stunned from falling for a moment.  I cried out for help for a moment, but I felt bad for being preyed upon and didn't want to call any more attention to myself;  I held the rat in my grasp and clutched it tighter and tighter until I snapped it's neck and it fell stiff.  I seriously did keep waking up (outside of the dream, in the dream; totally unrestful sleep).  I had to turn the bedroom lamp on so that the figure would stop coming and being so shadowy, and it worked until I found my eyes paralyzed and incapable of opening.  I thought at some point I should leave my room and check on meloncolliepoet in his room to see if he was okay or what was going on; mental image of Claudia sneaking into Louis' coffin. 

I know it was all a dream because my room was much larger in the dream, had more doors, and neither of those fellows would pull a thing like that; plus, my door was locked.  Twas terrifying, nonetheless.

I also dreamt of being in some kind of resistance, the leader was a whorish Bart Simpson, going to a movie theater with people I knew, I think internet people I haven't met IRL yet.  I remember looking through my closet at all of my clothing, and finding a pretty, long brown dress, with a black top, that had never been worn before...and I was thinking about my petite soeur; a fiery, stubborn girl who was in trouble for something...I wanted to help her, offer her advice or support, but she wouldn't accept it.  I was thinking about my petite soeur, Rosa Sericea en Bouton Petite Soeur, then I wondered if the Sericea family had really been completed; it occurred to me I didn't really have a petite, and that she couldn't possibly exist, and there was no obstinate girl I was trying to offer guidance to...then I woke up. 

I realize now in this moment that it would be exceedingly easy for me to envision making out with Link, the Hero of Time.  Kissing him, feeling his strong arms around me...er... I...  he's pretty.  And the Hero of Time...  I could keep him.  Yeah.  Link.  (oh, this is just getting awkward.)

I wasted a whole bloody day, all because I'm crazy and don't sleep anymore.

Last night I took some pills and finally got to sleep at a night-ish hour; a little after 3 AM. I had dreams about rushing a sorority (lulz), Iron Man vs. Captain America (Hero Registration Act! Boo!), and being involved in a viral marketing campaign that involved me being in high school and Dr. Scoggin with Harry Potter and Shakespearean overtones and events.

I've been having more dreams about being in high school lately, and let me tell you -- they are a million times better than being in high school EVER was. I wish my high school had had Washu and Ryoko, or felt like a stage play at all times and involved murder mysteries. Clearly, I should establish a school of my own and make it that awesome. But then, that would leave me in the position of constantly being surrounded by sexy school girls. ... On second thought, you should not allow me to make a school of awesome.

Then I woke up. It was 4:40 PM. D: WTF. I was almost tempted to go back to sleep and dreams, but I feel guilty for wasting a whole day. I wonder if my skin is as pallid and if I look as relatively haggard as I did yesterday. It's nice to not be hallucinating anymore.

So I'm working on budgeting for my trip: I have a total of $46 in my checking account, which is to last me until the end of this month. Woo.

I had a dream that I was back in high school, taking a standardized test.  I'll admit it openly; I kind of enjoy standardized tests. 

I had to write an essay about the Menaechmi -- I had a copy of the play to read off of.  Steven Bain was sitting next to me, and writing a lot more and I felt self-conscious and people kept turning in their tests; I wasn't sure if I should even bother writing anything because obviously I wasn't operating on everyone else's level.

Washu was proctoring.   She insisted that I should continue, and Ryoko told me that there was all the time in the world left, so I regained hope and really got into writing the essay. 

Then I woke up.

And then I went back for more dream test-taking.  XD

I know, wtf.  I went back to a dream about high school willingly.  Oh dear.

Don't let me read The Sandman before bed.  Don't let me pretend I'm Lord Dream, either...although that would be my ideal occupation (bard is a secondary interest to dreamcrafting -- it's something I'd do to pay the bills and feed my ego, but I don't think I'd do it for ever and ever.  Crafting dreams?  Oh please let me do that forever!). 

But I was just thinking.  You know how when you're in a dark room, shapes shift and you wonder if there's something *else* around in there, if you're not alone, and the solution to this situation is to close your eyes and go to sleep?  What if I didn't?  What if I just lay there and let the illusory shadows consume me?  And my tired mind would lead me off somewhere and entrap me in some imaginary realm where there are no rules. 

I'm going to try it for a while.

So there's this girl and she needs to get to Anime Expo somehow.  So she could buy a 1-way plane ticket easily, right?  Maybe she does this, but THEN she gets one of her spoiled/rich friends with a car to drive her back to her place.  She probably wouldn't have to pay gas money, it'd be a 6 hour drive, but then she'd also have to keep company.  I wonder if she should give this plan any kind of merit, or if doling out extra money for a reverse plane ticket would work better. 

I had a lot of dreams; one about blackmagesteve, even.  I had a dream about Shizuru, Natsuki, Nao, and also of the ancient Slayers fandom, in which apparently there was an ultimate compendium of the Zelgadis on the Couch/Zelgadis on the Road fanficdom.  And there were two wallets in the Shizunatsunao dream; one was my cute tea wallet and the other was a wallet with pictures of Natsuki and Shizuru on it, and apparently the dream also involved a lesbian nightclub which kept personalized profiles of its patrons and Nao was too embarrassed to tell anyone other than Natsuki and Shizuru that she wanted to go.  I think this was a veiled reference to Anime Expo, because everyone knows that silencescreams is really Shizuru.  <3 

I contemplate what I should do with my future; also, my house is dreadfully unclean.

Okay, burningmoth, get out of my head.

Dreaming about you too much.  I think the two of us could burn a city down quite easily, but no matter what, we've got to have resolve.  I had a dream in which we were to trick-or-treat together, and then another dream where we decided we'd be criminals -- really good looking, well dressed, charming criminals.  I wore my frilly pirate shirt, and you wore a silky scarf-tie and tried to look like Desire of the Endless.  It was rad. 

But we made such bad criminals because we couldn't decide how to hold people up at gun point.  I don't even know how we got that gun.  You're so vain, in my dreams, you know.

I forgot how much I enjoyed making characters miserable.  I love setting up complex emotional situations for fictional people and then watching it all crumble into shards of misery. 

I still have a very distinct cruel streak, as much as I resist it.  I've gotten used to being "good" now, no longer is it so utterly terrifying and unfamiliar as it was when I first started.  I still don't like it very much.  I don't know if I'll ever learn to like it.  I much enjoy testing myself to see if I can still do something wrong, and get away with it; yes, I can.  I think that puts me with the rest of humanity, then...for if temptation wasn't enjoyable, why would anyone stray?

Right now I'm having a very German-language-thought day.  My German comprehension is suddenly up, which is funny because I haven't spoken any.  I am also feeling more physical today.  I woke up this morning with some dream about child exploitation, Alice, and sacrifice and I woke up very ambivalent.  For some reason I was the chosen child to be "Alice" and all of my other siblings would have a horrible life and be sacrificed and demeaned and exploited, somewhere along there was a calendar of little girl cheerleaders that someone objected to, and I felt as if I should be out there being used also, because I felt I didn't deserve the escape I was given.  Also, I heard a walrus bemoan that she would be killed and cut up for her blubber and I just felt awful and horrible for her situation. 

Thinking should never be a crime.

My mood and energy are directly linked to how much literature I am reading at any given moment.  However, this is inversely linked to how much I care about my obligations; if I am reading too much I don't care about completing tasks.  If I read too little, the importance of getting this and that over with are salient, but I lack the energy to actually bother.  It's really a tragic cycle. 

I wish I had enough money to buy food right now.  Currently accepting donations. D:

It is calling to me now.  It is haunting in my dreams.  The city will not leave me alone, so I think that's a sign I ought to go.  But I've never been!

I had a dream I was in New York *AGAIN* and going to meet up with blackmagesteve, but I was there and didn't actually bother making any kind of hotel/lodging plans.  Yet again, I found another friend with which to lodge, and this time she actually lived in New York (Manhattan, really).  Her roommate was crazy. 

This is approaching "Spain-haunting" levels.  I'm going to end up making half-sober travel plans some morning.

Clearly, this is a place I need to be someday.
---

This morning at 5 AM I became vindictive and started looking up the Myspaces of girls I used to go to elementary school with.  The grudges I held then still persist, as I look at photographs of these girls and think "ugh, I hate you.  Oh, it's her...I hate her.  Grr.  She was such a bitch." and hoping certain girls I had fond feelings for (really, only one) didn't grow up heterosexual so there's still a chance she holds me dearly in her heart.  We had the best professions of love, taking each other by the hand and promising that we'd be together again when she got into middle school, not to forget each other...it didn't quite work out, obviously. 

I had a dream.  I was in New York or some large east coast city.  No, wait, that's not how it started...

I was staying with some friends in a lovely old mansion.  I'd just arrived.  Suddenly, Undead!! Zombies invaded the house, so instead of bothering to go out with a flamethrower, I just locked my door and windows and hid with the dog I was apparently taking care of so they couldn't turn me into one of them.  And since I figured no one knew I was there yet anyway, and the zombie army would leave as soon as they'd attacked and converted everyone, it seemed like the best course of action, as I am in no way equipped for melee combat, nor did I have a flamethrower. 

It worked.  And since everyone in the house was my friend, they didn't really want to convert me to a zombie against my will.  However, the zombie toxin unfortunately increase aggressiveness and combativeness; what do you have to lose if you've already lost your life, anyway?  And...er...i also learned the fluffy little dog that had been hiding with me was a zombie all along, so if he'd just bit me it would've gone anyway.  After a few near knife fights with my zombie hosts, I decided it would be better to find another host.

I ended up staying with mireille_x.  Which does not make much sense, as she lives in Canada, land of milk in bags.  It was surprising, to say the least, as we don't know each other particularly well.  Discussion of femmeslash and coffee ensued.  Her room was rather pink. 

The really important part: I was taken on a tour of a grand but little known underground theatre, which was even so beautiful people held parties and ceremonies on the stage itself.  This is because somehow, above the stage, someone had constructed a castle in the sky, supported by a fluffy funnel of soft shining clouds, in pale blues and lavender and gold.  The castle could be accessed by flying through the clouds (although if you hadn't done it before, you'd need someone to hold your hand and carry you along).  The castle itself was ivory hued but somewhat translucent in the outer walls.  A warm crimson glow in the shape of a heart hovered behind it.  It was really like a fairy tale castle. 

I'm almost embarrassed to disclose it, it sounds like something a girl in elementary school would draw mid-crush reverie.  Not that I've really outgrown that, but, to others I must sound like a childish romantic fool.  No, scratch that, schizotypal probably thinks that of me all the time anyway. 

I was scheduled to meet up with blackmagesteve at some point in this entire visit, of course.  This had been delayed as a result of my friends turning into angry zombies, so all the scheduling had been pretty blown.   I'm surprised at how nonplussed I was at the entire zombie thing, but I'm usually rather...well, why panic?  Either live or don't.   I'm also shocked I managed to pull a knife on one of my zombie friends, who in turn grabbed me and held my own knife to my neck, then stabbed himself and threatened to cut me with his zombie blood if I didn't shut up and stop acting like my uncorrupted state was so much better.  

So somehow, we'd rearranged a way to spend time together.  And I of course intended to show him the castle, as it was exceptionally pretty and happy-making.  Your hair had grown out again.

That's all I remember.