I had a dream last night which started out with a terrifying burglary which seemed to uncover all sorts of Fortean activity which had been occuring at my house. The whole point of Fortean activity is that it's random and unexplained, but this was all *deliberate*, and not caused by some Illuminati but by some esoteric Mafia of which I was somehow ( Read more... )

I'm up and can't sleep because I've got writers block. The stumbling block at this point is that I really have to write either about Hohenheim's meeting with the Freemasons or Boris Nightingale's vision quest in the desert, and I really don't feel up to writing either one, and I don't have any other ideas for any other part of the narrative. I ( Read more... )

Often I'm seated next to a bluehaired guy at work, who I've decided is worth talking to. On our first day of conversation we discovered we were reading the same Dostoevsky book, although he didn't have a whole lot to say about it. Turns out he's studying Astrophysics, and thinks that the job is the same fetid pile of bullshit that I can smell. ( Read more... )

Something's bothering me. Partly it's Radiohead. I can imagine their audience not moshing or dancing but growing long beards, of which to stroke, and ponder, but ponder in the way I seem to, which involves not a process, but a whirlwind cogitation which doesn't go anyway or accomplish anything, but paints a Pollock of emotion which is an ( Read more... )

I don't really think it matters now. The reputation is done. It won't be courage so much as an act of desperation. The more I progress, the more I regress. That's just Stew ( Read more... )

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Of course, being a hippy, I'm a Weirdness Magnet. Shuffling down the Main Street, and a Hare Krishna orbits me slightly. Oh God, I think, before he hones in. Can they not tell that I shall, with my long flowing hair, never be converted to a skinhead movement? Hare Hare No ( Read more... )

"Rimbaud was a man more naturally gifted with artistic possibilities than any other poet in French literature, but when he discovered that it did not bring him the ideal for which he thirsted he could have none of it. Just as he would not accept the humble position of ordinary Christian, in the same way he could not accept the position of mere ( Read more... )

There’s a man at the top and his name is Control: he looks through the world with the same jaundice as I. His eye hungers for a predator. Love is what he craves, but at the same time, Love is so boring, tamed by Hallmark cards, Shakespeare, twirling couples and flowing blonde hair under sunshine… We’d much rather crush something as blood flows ( Read more... )

Indeed, indeed I am. I've moved into a new flat and the first thing they do is get me drunk and get me transcendentally illuminated, and what do we do? Silly semantics, the whole thing: "I know exactly what you mean!" your Partner says, and you raise the finger, to make the next dazzling Point, till the Eyebrow betrays you; arches, hang onnnnn ( Read more... )