Flight and other Pastimes
I am writing this on the flight between Frankfurt and DC. I am sipping cognac and I am listening to Stupify by Disturbed. Furthermore, I just finished The Carpet People by Terry Pratchett, and since that is the only book I had brought with me, it was writing or nothing.
So.
Last night I had some surreal images coming to me.
Actual conversation between TWP’s mother and TWP:
“You are really, really tense.”
“Uhm, yes.”
“You should take another Xanax.”
“Yes, now that would just be brilliant.”
“It would calm you down.”
“Possibly, possibly.”
I could go on for some time but in the end I did take another Xanax and then I had a glass of wine and at 2am some extremely interesting imagery began to surface.
Not dreams.
Dreams have may be odd, disjointed and inconsistent, but they have a sort of twisted cohesion. Mine do anyway. These were simply rapid fire images.
For example:
The pearly, glistening silver bathtub duck that emerged from the ground, slowly. It looked at me and nodded. The motion was completely fluid and incredibly graceful. Naturally, I nodded back. You do not ignore something like the greeting from a supple silvery duck.
Flying around on wings of roaring white flame (of course, not dreaming about this sort of thing would be unusual for me).
Cooking peach chicken (chicken using peaches as an ingredient, not a peach colored chicken or a mutant hybrid of chicken and peaches) on a tropical island.
There were other images and they were all vividly colorful and extremely interesting. I have got to stop taking Xanax, it is too much fun.
Well. I just filled out that retarded customs declaration form they give you before you can enter the Land of the Free (the land where you cannot have a beer in public, jokingly talk about killing the president or speak your mind without being blacklisted by somebody). The form asks what you are bringing in with you… if you are a resident. Well, I am no longer a resident. So I left it blank. Is this going to cause me all kinds of irritation at customs? Probably. However…. FUCK U, CUSTOMS.
God I hate bureaucracy.
Ok, the in flight movie just came on, - Digitalicat would LOVE it, hint: it stars Linday Lohan’s breasts and a VW bug. So I
So.
Last night I had some surreal images coming to me.
Actual conversation between TWP’s mother and TWP:
“You are really, really tense.”
“Uhm, yes.”
“You should take another Xanax.”
“Yes, now that would just be brilliant.”
“It would calm you down.”
“Possibly, possibly.”
I could go on for some time but in the end I did take another Xanax and then I had a glass of wine and at 2am some extremely interesting imagery began to surface.
Not dreams.
Dreams have may be odd, disjointed and inconsistent, but they have a sort of twisted cohesion. Mine do anyway. These were simply rapid fire images.
For example:
The pearly, glistening silver bathtub duck that emerged from the ground, slowly. It looked at me and nodded. The motion was completely fluid and incredibly graceful. Naturally, I nodded back. You do not ignore something like the greeting from a supple silvery duck.
Flying around on wings of roaring white flame (of course, not dreaming about this sort of thing would be unusual for me).
Cooking peach chicken (chicken using peaches as an ingredient, not a peach colored chicken or a mutant hybrid of chicken and peaches) on a tropical island.
There were other images and they were all vividly colorful and extremely interesting. I have got to stop taking Xanax, it is too much fun.
Well. I just filled out that retarded customs declaration form they give you before you can enter the Land of the Free (the land where you cannot have a beer in public, jokingly talk about killing the president or speak your mind without being blacklisted by somebody). The form asks what you are bringing in with you… if you are a resident. Well, I am no longer a resident. So I left it blank. Is this going to cause me all kinds of irritation at customs? Probably. However…. FUCK U, CUSTOMS.
God I hate bureaucracy.
Ok, the in flight movie just came on, - Digitalicat would LOVE it, hint: it stars Linday Lohan’s breasts and a VW bug. So I
posted by Balázsy András at 6:43 PM
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