Under the circumstances, I had different weird dreams than I would have expected: writing a poem, watching some incredibly threadbare film noir with no waking equivalent, hearing a performance from a musical theater star ditto. I am beginning to think the pop culture of my dreams actually is the hell of a good video store next door, leavened in the last few nights by dreams of re-reading real-life authors currently in storage like P.C. Hodgell or Joan D. Vinge. I remain physically fried, news at nowhen. At least the rain seems to have kept off the neighborly leafblowing which perforated so much of yesterday. The news continues to feel like stupidly lethal cosplay, which I remember from the last round of this administration, which doesn't make me hate it less.
Links
Page Summary
Active Entries
- 1: Melting outward like a movie burning on the screen
- 2: We've found where the divide is thin and chosen the other side
- 3: The ocean is faithful and the Devil's a liar
- 4: The ghosts of them surround me
- 5: I specialize in opera myself
- 6: Can't I take my own binoculars out?
- 7: And those who can remember when the night sky was a tapestry
Style Credit
- Style: Classic for Refried Tablet by
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
zvi and
Expand Cut Tags
No cut tags