Thought i just had:

About My Deja Vú:

Every day is a new bout of deja vú, like the days are coming closer, like.. Like my wants, plans, goals-- conscious, sub-, and pre- -- are combining with the ways of the world. Like things are, in fact, coming together...

I don't know if that's... accurate. But it feels right.

It's all apocalyptic, and visceral, in my head. Reds and golds, and high-pitched, like a finger around a chipped crystal wine flute.

Dream Well

Well that was strange.

Over slept by an hour and a half. Got a ride in to work, from beard, and was only 30 minutes late.

Oingo Boingo - [Stay]--- Do'nt remember my dreams, due to the Panic, of being so horribly late. But it's coming back, slowly. Maybe. Doesn't much matter.

Got a bunch of reading to do, for classes. Still intimidated. Feel like i should attempt the scholarly contribution, but it also scares the shite out of me. (LUXT - [Infinite]). I've got scenes and writings, in my head, but none of them are scholarly, so much as violently demonic, and psychologically and spiritually distrubed/-ing. So there's that...

I feel strange, recently. Like i'm shirking something... Everything is coughing, gently, to garner my attentions, and i'm trying to look in every direction at once. And it's pissing me off that it's not working.

I'm going to go attempt to read.

Ta.

I know what the fuck i want to say to you:

Auf der Maur - [I'll Be Anything You Want]--- You're waiting, too much, on the physical accutriments of my will and work. Every time i make a spiral, in this place, you want me to draw it, on the ground, the wall, the air, my heart. I don't like to work that way. The thump, beat, move rhythm, of the whole work, the intent and direction, the fact that i'm fucking Doing it... Why aren't these enough, for you?

You need so much. You need me to caress your surfaces, cradle you close, and dig the knife edge in, just so, every time i want to change the world. For you, my intent and my will, they're like mutual masturbation, to a sex addict: close, but not quite enough. (A Perfect Circle - [Gravity]). You want so badly for me to stick it in, and twist, do a little left-right shimmy, and spill it all. You want the tangible, physical mess of it, and the napalmed sky just isn't enough.

You tell me it's ok, and i know that i can get things accomplished, there. I know i can make it work, the more i push, the more nuanced my control and whispers of thought, across your planes. But I also know that you really want the flesh, the "fact" the physical thrust of it, the call and the cage, and you want it all. You want me to work the words and tools, together, and you want me to combine the ingrdients, together, in your crucible. You want me to Work, like You want me to work. My knowledge, my intent, my understanding, isn't good enough, for you. I have to make you feel it, i have to sing the notes just so, to make your bones hum, make your heart thump, make your cerebral fluids feel like they'er going to catch fire.

The Police - [Don't Stand So Close to Me]--- Fine. We can play that way. We can gather the tools, and the instruments. Everyone wants a ritual. Sometimes they mean something, the words, sometimes it's only that you bothered to say anything at all.

You're needy. I get that.

Believe me. I get that.

Problem. Help, damn it.

LUXT - [Cleanser]--- I have the dying words of Ota Dokan (compsed as he sat dying in the bath with the weapon still in his body, after he was stabbed) stuck in my head, and i'd forgotten them until i read them, again, last night. Now i can't remember where I first read them. Can anyone out there help? If you know of the book, movie, comic or play in which this poem appeared, please let me know:

Had I not known
that I was dead
already
I would have mourned
my loss of life.

- Ota Dokan (1432-86)

The Dresden Dolls - [The Perfect Fit]--- Thank you.