Picking off
Sometimes I go months without posting. You may think I spend that time reading or working. But it is mostly spent in total inertia.
I had three very vivid dreams last night, right between the hours I lay awake thinking about how to make bombs from fertilizer and my relentless alarm clock. In the first I was shot by some guy who just passed me in the street, twice. The second bullet killed me. In the second dream, I wrecked a wobbly staircase on the way back from a giant indoor swimming pool. In the third dream I was happy to be a part of a gang of yellow-died zombies, running around the city, showing themselves off in shop windows.
And then I was woken into another day of utter despair. Why can’t life be more like dream.
