dreaming and dancing
sleep is one of those things that the more you want it, the harder it is to get. it’s also a thing that intoxication can make more attractive and less productive. these are quite possibly universal rules for the short-sighted, but this is not the place for such speculation. this is the place for unfiltered expression of my every anguish. in gory, microscopic detail.
alternatively, this could be the sanitised version. the point is, at 8am i woke after about 6 hours restless sleep, well-earned after proving to myself that I could dance to gangsta rap for three hours. the pleasure from noticing that my load groan resonated strangely in my small room did not significantly improve my mood. nature was attended to and Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci’s “How I Long To Feel That Summer In My Heart” found to lull me back to sleep. I put it on too damn loud. It was too damn good to turn down. Perhaps I was too damn lazy, but it was damn good. That moment in ‘Christina’ when he sings, as sweetly as every other delicate melody in the song,
What’s the point in living if we can’t be together?
I’m coming up to shoot you, the sooner the better…
gets me every time. So I listened to the whole record before dropping off. And well worth it was too. Now that the alcohol had seemingly evaporated, the curtains closed properly and dreams came back. Thick dreams full of friends, and funny strangeness. Beginnning to control the situation, i found myself walking towards a bright cinema, and I tried to choose what film would be playing. It greatly amused me to find my efforts were in vain, and as I approached the film was a schlocky horror called “Eke!!!”. The misspelling pleased me. Fabulously, round the corner, on the promenade, a penguin flew into the air to greet his brother, who was bouncing around on the top of a 200ft water jet from a laughing whale. Lighthouses perched on clouds, superflously, in the inky blue-grey sky. Following the penguins, I floated up untill I woke, feeling a hell of a lot better.
