intaglio: crucified @ LJ (silver fox)
Getting sorted with my coffee to the beat as it's been for years, for all the years, for always--Pendulum helps.

Autumn is my favorite, and the neat thing about hurricane season being so long is that I can wake to driving winds, hard enough to pull the door from my hand and kiss my lips, pulling for breath on the exhale, trying to suck its way inside.

Nobody ever stopped to find out if I had an oral fixation. Being an eight and looking too young is a lonely fucking business, but it ought to pay off well within the next three to five.

I have some awesome opportunities staring me in the face, if I can marshal up the courage to go after them. (I've always confused marshal and martial; I confuse words with the same sound, regardless of whether the spelling is remotely close--see, aloud for allowed.)

I dreamed all night about organizing and opportunity: something that I don't remember now, that had to do with apartments, with the way they look looking out, all the balconies facing each other in that square, that compact rectangular yard. A lot of staircases and elevators, proceeding up and down, motion and change.

No, dear. When I have sex dreams, somebody gets stabbed. Blood and fire are more my speed.

This is an organizational dream, a dream of preparation--structural layer dream about changing living habits. Compare the subway dream and the highway dream, both relationship-issue dreams.

I have a recurring nightmare about dying horribly in an elevator shaft, in a crash or a straight fall, or being crushed when the cab returns.

In general, my dreams are intense, recurrent, and largely locale-or-setting-based. I don't know, I've met so few people that remember their dreams, let alone get in the habit of writing them down, that I don't know if that's how everybody does it.

We spend a third of our lives asleep. That's 33.3-bar percent of our entire lives. Why wouldn't our dreams be important? Even if they're junk cycles. Partial files. Chance music, interesting for its own sake.

I can tell I'm getting older when I'm excited about my purchases, and they're as follows: a closet rack, a lint roller, and a pretty beach towel--a conscious act of not-like-the-others.

Look at all this cleaning I'll be able to do.


intaglio: knightofend @ LJ (Default)

March 2017

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