I just woke from a series of interlocking dreams that were filled with people I miss, people I don't, and people I see frequently in waking life. So far I'm really pumped that I haven't had any cameo appearances by Mom n' Dad, because Christ knows, they are the only people I see on weekdays besides bitchy florists who "have a wedding to do today." You're the only one, toots, now stifle and gimme a check. Locations featured in my dream included, and not independently: the 313, a pet store, Kristyn Lattanzi's former home in Durham, and the loading dock at Carbone Floral in Bedford.
The first few days of work were pretty miserable. Waking up at five and hitting the hay at nine-thirty is a the opposite of what I was told was normal in schollege. Also, after a forty-seven hour first work week comprised of ninety percent driving I don't even actively drive anymore. Honestly, I now black out sheer hours of every route I take both on and off the clock.
Tim King has recently suggested a writing circle via facebook, and though I prefer a circle of homeys in the basement of Ham-smith, UNH, Durham, USA, I second that emotion. Let's do this. My brief trip to Dover this past Friday really ignited some of that old creative fire. I'd love an audience of writers to share the dreams with. Also, I'd enjoy a post-occupational obligation besides watching reruns of SVU with my Dad. I love a crime drama as much as the next fat person, but it's good to use your brain once a day. At least that's what I hear.
Hey, don't ever forget about this okay? ::: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Ch4dKpBJmU
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