October 25, 2011

You Keep Your Mao in There

I just heard a funny one about baby octupi in Chinatown

But I picked up my little Mao in a train station. His head comes off along with the shortest bit of neck. I'm not sure what you're supposed to put inside.

Maybe spare allergy medecine?


Something awesome on microfilm?

Microfiche. Microfish. Microphone. Microscope. Microscopic. Hypertropic. Never necrotic. Tick tick tick tick BOOM! We're dynamite.

20 becomes 19
Death becomes her

This vivid, heart-stopping nightmare where I'm writing words on a concrete circle with water and there are all these occulty scary things, but they aren't scary. It's a blond girl at the bottom of the stairs and gross is just blooming on her at the edges of her eyes, her joints. And I can't not look and I can't move and soon I can't breathe.

This wholly other dream from 14 or 15 years ago that I still remember. I'm a bench facing the checkout counters at the 17th Street Safeway (in DC). Maybe the most peaceful thing I've ever known.

Lots and lots of train rides.

Almost to eleven.

Numbers everwhere.
Physics everywhere.
Pieces of us everywhere.
Lightspeed everywhere.
Apparantly repetition everywhere.

Sorry about that.

I better get this up before my battery dies. Cuz it will.

Something about robots, the future, sunrises, smoke.