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ajb813
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Name: Andy
Country: United States
State: Indiana
Metro: Fort Wayne
Gender: Male
Interests: Riding my bicycle. Working on bicycles. Truing wheels. Reading books. Learning.
Expertise: School work. Wheelbuilding.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Engineering
Message: message me
Member Since:
12/31/2004
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| I came across this poem I started while I was packing up my things. It is still unfinished
October Rain
October Rain is bitterly cold
Like a hand in lacquer thinner in the winter
Out in a garage working alone, cleaning some part
Like air drying the blood off the bones of my hand
Summer rain is better, it is welcome
It is a soft cold
When the thundrous gray clouds come,
Come and cover the evil yellow face that is evil
Maliciously painting my pale skin red
it comes and soothes us
the first is boiled into steam
but the rest comforts us from its harsh glare
October rain is cold and biting and dirty.
It makes the dead leaves alive again.
They spread like the undead, a virus
Infecting everything, sordidifying everything
December and January rain is different
It is definitely a soft cold
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| I have been dreaming a lot in the past few days. The dreams are so real that I feel more alive in my dreams than awake. Indeed, the distinctions between the two are so blurred it is difficult to discern not only where one ends and the other starts, but also entirely one from the other. Some people can remember doing something in a dream and confusing that they did it for real, but how many people can say that their dream world is so established and sequential and interconnected that they confuse something they did in reality for taking place in a dream?
Sidewalks are not appealing to me, but apparently there are certain
rules for being on the grass. I like to go under the category of
frolicking. So now I hum Kashmir while walking on the grass. It
counts.
The discontinuity leaves me disorientated. Sometimes I come to a sudden realization that I don't know where I am or how I got there and what I was or am doing and less often who I am momentarily. Other times I will open a door and realize that the whole world is backwards, like a mirror image. Small details, simple tasks, or conversations that have occurred in the last few days have been confused between which world they happened in.
It seems I can bowl and at frolfing when I don't think about anything at all. That is really difficult to do, so I don't do it that much.
A benefit of having such stable dreams enables me to explore some capabilities of dreams. When I realize that I am aware and can attempt to fight for free will in my dreams, I experiment. I finally confirmed that I cannot taste in dreams. Often I attend huge feasts in my dreams, but I never get to eat for one reason or another. Recently I took some food in my hand and smelled it and it had scent, but when I ate it, it had no flavor at all.
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| Homework is done and we get to go to bed before 2. This is exciting. Perhaps soon I will write something worth the time. ,stodds od mrst;u vp,[;ryr/  | | |
| The inability to sleep is destroying me. Yesterday I was in one of my worlds that I do not often visit. The place is called Eethril, and it is known for its forest of purple trees and it rains gasoline from multicolored clouds. Whenever I am at this world it is always so vivid and beautiful but I am always standing there with a box of matches in my hand.
Lately there have been songs stuck in my head at work or when I ride. One day I decided to make a list of the songs and realized that there are at least 50 to 60 songs stuck in my head per day with 3 or 4 simulataneously playing. They are dependent on what I am thinking about and my surroundings. Perhaps I shall transcribe the lyrics someday. | | |
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