this weekend... this weekend i had a hard time holding myself together. methinks the stress from the past few weeks has peaked enough to surface and push push me over the edge of the calm and complacent and into the sad. numbness has since settled in next to sad, resting its head on her shoulder, lacing fingers, sighing sweet and content. interesting how SixFeetUnder acts as a release canon for me - hopelessness encourages me to feel, the realistic prospect of death, the bleak outlook which is the here and now, the day dream stripped away and the skinned and sweating truth exposed� and i am able to cry.

this sad will not take me whole. i have decided to attempt to ride the wave. thinking/whirring increases my pressure and pain, compounds and distorts all thoughts into a giganimous and utterly hopeless life situation. why give in to this kind of thinking? at times it is not to be helped, of course, but the experiment with analyzing and expressing all thoughts and cares at these times seems to result in more pain. i will try the opposite - not simply as a silence artist, keeping the lid on, no. i will try to not dwell - to ride the wave - to flow and ebb.
i will learn from the sea.

my dream last night: i am the librarian of the enterprise, and one of the necessary team for away missions and problem solving. there is flux and change, the ship shakes. we, the away team, are caught in some sort of time twist, everything is warped. pickard, i and the rest of the team watch as kirk drives a 57 chevy down the halls - the ship lighting and form is akin to that of tron. there is a mixture of B5 and startrek people, intermixed outfits, those long dead alive again - intermixed and nonsensical.

the dream closes with J�kar falling from the ceiling in his quarters on top of two dead crew members - he is torso only, with a bit of the spine exposed beyond the end of his body. along with him falls a large quantity of sickening slime. this scene is repeated 5 times before i wake.

how about them apples?