19.Mar.2001

in the dreaming

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funnydates

I still wasn't kidding about hiring you as my house-cleaner and paying you via steak and cigarettes.

I am afraid if I keep toying with the lay-out, the words will somehow disappear and I'll just be a pretty box.

Fleshbox.

Last night I couldn't fall asleep because the voices of other Diarylanders were entering my brain. It was a hushed, hurried nuance of a thousand, thousand voices, updating their diaries, spilling their guts, and it was incredibly Jon Woo sans the dove.

I feel the need to brush my teeth one trillion times today.

Diary, is there such a thing as future past lives?

Seriously.

Somedays, I keep thinking I was involved in the Neo-Tokyo spine-theiving era circa 3035. A crossblend of Akira and Battle Angel.

I have a sensitive spot on my neck that feels like someone has inserted something metallic, and I remember losing my spine.

I think I'm just crazy.

I think I dreamed about fire.

Apart of me wants to go back to sleep, because at least I was very, very warm there.

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time & machine