The Warmth of a Dream
My life is but one dream — ever searching for the next episode. A life built solidly upon uneven volumes of sea water, bamboo and paper. And between these volumes are strings and lace and rope that flow off sideways; some forgotten, some loved and some waiting. To know what is next would be to topple this great tower. To plan what is next would be to measure it’s beautiful chaos. No! This dream must flow. I am sure of it.
December 6, 2007 at 8:35 pm
I want to paint this. Just all those things. All on one page. Everywhere. All chaotic.
K, I’m done.
December 7, 2007 at 4:16 am
I’d be honored.
I think that imagery come out of me best when under the influence. This time was under the hand of acetaminophen with codeine. Something about a migraine and painkillers inspires me to write.
At first I thought that the outcome of my writing differed according to the drug, but now I believe that I just need to be feeling different than normal and I can write.
Can I write sober? Of course. But it’s not as romantic.
December 7, 2007 at 11:47 am
Well, some of the best writers wrote while intoxicated or on drugs, so it makes sense I think. It’s because you’re not putting up those walls and blocking everything, you’re writing exactly what you’re feeling. It allows your mind to free itself. Sounds like I’m a big alcoholic or drug addict, haha.
If I had codeine, I’d be puking all night, but that’s okay.
I like how all your writing is so romantic. Writing inspires me sometimes, especially yours. And I guess writers have all this imagery that they need to put down on paper, an artists can kind of make it real.
<3
December 7, 2007 at 11:47 am
Well, not ‘real’ I don’t think that’s the right word.. more.. visual, tangible? I donno.
December 8, 2007 at 1:59 am
We lay the foundation and you make it true.
December 8, 2007 at 1:12 pm
Yup. Man, I’m good at words…
December 9, 2007 at 12:36 am
You goof.
December 9, 2007 at 11:42 am
Haha <3