flying my kite. quantum mechanics. green tea. music. drums. listening to jazz radio until it goes off the air. venus fly traps. echos. the human brain. painting. giraffes. willow trees. dreams. literature. miracles. snow. snowboarding. conspiracies. colors. pipe organs. stained glass windows. jesus christ. the cello. things lost and forgotten. symphony. black holes. record players. bell towers. planets. stars. shag carpet. photography. time and space. piano. sociology. rocking chairs. philosophy. the ocean. world religions. coo-coo clocks. typewriters. teleportation. NASA. paper collage. ninjas. fountains. interpretation. sandboxes. the bermuda triangle. egypt. pocket watches. the illusion of time. three piece suits. linoleum. warped spacetime. angels and demons. aristotle. waterfalls. the cycle of seasons. mohawks. accordions. nine-ball. pheromones. vincent van gough. structures of the world and of the universe. the human suits that our souls wear.
88.1. belle & sebastian. the cinematic orchestra. the bad plus. primus. nofx. mum. sigur ros. ee. the beastie boys. buddy rich. the mars volta. the microphones. rage against the machine. saves the day. ten foot pole. they might be giants. blue album weezer.
waking life. what the bleep do we know. the science of sleep. adaptation. the neverending story. stranger than fiction. eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. fear and loathing in las vegas. the big lebowski.
the a-team. the munsters. the wonder years. pee-wee's playhouse. turner classic movies
as i discovered, there were reams and reams of it. endless snarles of words, sometimes twisting into meaning, sometimes into nothing at all, frequently breaking apart, always branching off into other pieces i'd come across later... on old napkins, the tattered edges od an envelope, once even on the back of a postage stamp; everything and anything but empty; each fragment completely covered with the creep of years and years of ink pronouncements... layered, crossed out, amended; handwritten, typed; legible, illegible; impenetrable, lucid; torn, stained, scotch taped; some bits crisp and clean, others faded, burnt or folded and refolded so many times the creases have obliterated whole passages of god knows what... sense? truth? deceit? a legacy of prophecy or lunacy or nothing of the kind? i think now if someone had told us to be careful, we would have.
everyone who is living their dream.