i've been chasing a dream round a dirty little room
next time our lonely inn was interupted at 3am by sanity knocking on the doorbell..
we fought with giant tegenaria gigantea/domestica after cleaning the house (domesticum) and eating steak for tea (gigantic teaum).
we played halo (this is halo, but it won’t hurt you, said blur, but they were wrong). now i have lit candles in a sacrifice for my sanity, and snap my hands – rolling my thumbs – towards the overlarge mosquito which moves from my blog to my candles and back again. so strong, so bright was the halo-urge, that pete doherty’s clanging, dying soiled monk snapshots were put on stop. “we have to hear the gunshots”.
and then, despite my most seductive velvet bag, scrabble was turned down. for after immersing four young minds in another violent world for hours, it was deemed that words were too much for them.
and even though we are all lethal killing machines in this/that/which universe, the carbon dioxide has convinced me to go green. my descent into madness is at least subjective and temporary – states and parts of states. i promise not to be bad to the world for ages, whereas i only promise not to pick up my sword and split the screen for two days.
tomorrow will surely bring more gigantea/domestica…
and i know that she is wise and she’s the apple of my eye