0000 888

Feb. 23rd, 2003 03:25 pm
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Deadsy - [Itsy Bitsy Titsy Girl]--- So, this is the 888th installment of the insanity. Those of you who have stayed with us. this long, good job! Your mugs and t-shirts are in the... wait, no. (Rasputina - [New Zero]). Anyway, here's some dreams.

I'm in the mall in my head, and the mall is now, also, Underground mall, Lenox mall, and Phipps Plaza. If you go back, behind the shops, and the food court, which is on the top level, it's the bar district of 18th-19th century London and Ireland. It's dark, and it's lit by gas-lamps, on the walls, and it looks like a London road, and everything. I'm wandering through the Mall, looking for people, and trying to make sure that certain of my friends are safe, for whatever reasons. I run into Sarah Gregory, with whom i went to highschool, and she's waiting for Thai/Chinese/Sushi, in front of some food vendor, on the second floor, instead of the top. When she gets her food, she's behind the counter, eating it, and telling me where everyone went, and how it's good to see me. I walk, behind the scenes, into the Gas-Lit streets and alleyways.

I'm riding a motorcycle, down a street in D.C., that's also a street in Marrietta, Georgia. Holcomb Bridge Rd., perhaps. I'm riding, and i'm talking to my friend George David, from elementary and middle school, and we're racing. I'm talking to him about how he shouldn't try to pas the truck i'm passing, because he'll die. And i'm walking the bike, up some of the hill, but still doing eighty. Flashes of a bed room, behind the mall, in between the mall and the UK. Transition room. We continue racing. I think he dies, but am not sure. Something crosses my mind, about a babysitter.

I'm in front of one of the gates of my apartment complex, and it's longer, because it's merged itself with the other gate, farther down the street. I'm on a motorcycle, still, and am now wearing biker's leathers, in black and this weird yellow/silver colour. I am working/had worked for the Yakuza, and my family is in danger. I have to get home, or horrible things will happen. I know that if i go in, i'm going to have to bike to the left, cut through the woods, and crash in through my window. The gate is taking too long. It opens, and i floor it, through. I wake up


VNV Nation - [Cold]--- And those were the dreams. I think i had a katana, on my back, at the end of that last dream. It was interesting... Anywho, i wanted to make a note, here, the other day, about something, but then i forgot it, remember? I do. And i did.

Soul Coughing - [Super Bon Bon]--- Magicians. True Scientists. Shamans. All of you who read this. We, for the most part, are a pragmatic bunch. We spend our days, cycling through that which has worked, before, to find that which will aid us, now. Hermetics, Shamanistics, Physics, Quantum Theory... simply praying really hard, or not thinking about it, and Jumping... (Voltaire - [Ex Lover's Lovers]). Simply amazing... those of us who don't, well, we're a lot less flexible. Even when it doesn't work, we stay with it.

"Meteorology is an inexact science, like unto Witchcraft: sometimes it works and sometimes it don't." - Me.

So, now i'm going to go. I hope that you've enjoyed this, the 888th Episode of "Damn... Wolven's Weird." Good Night, and Gods Bless.

Later.

Whatever Works?

Date: 2003-02-23 12:40 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Isn't that how *everyone* works though? Learning proceses and whatnot. If we didn't use what worked before, we'd still be in the stone age or worse. Course, I have no reason to be talking like this, since some lessons *never* penetrate.
-Mech

Re: Whatever Works?

Date: 2003-02-23 12:43 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] wolven.livejournal.com
Not everyone. Some people find one thing, and stay with it, for ever.

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