climax
...a reoccurring theme in many of my dreams is a great black cyclone...a dark and slender form looming on the horizon, it darkens the sky and hurls winds from afar...i've spent many childhood nights fleeing its impending destruction...but it seems to follow me, relentlessly even at a great distance...
...last night i was in the basement of the house where i grew up when i heard a familiar sound...i rushed to the veranda, and there as it had been in countless dreams before it, that ominous black funnel, coiling and twisting as it approached...but i refused to run...it grew larger, and more terrible as it drew closer, hurling cars and lawn furniture along its course...but i refused to run...
...it smashed through our red picket fence, and advanced through our backyard, daring me to flee...but i refused to run...my mother pulled me into the house,there was a furious howl of winds from the cyclone, and in its wrath it smashed the windows of our house...our family lay huddled together amid shards of broken glass...we clasped hands and remained strangely unafraid...that terrible roar grew louder, but my family and i remained strangely unafraid as the twister, in its fury, destroyed the house all around us...
...then it was gone...
...i woke strangely refreshed, as though something inside me had changed, and i knew somehow that i would never have that dream again...
...it is said that dreams are the fuel for ambition, but what if you have none?...what if ambition is just another one of those things you weren't born with like a conscience, or a soul, or a gag reflex?...many of us then turn to the plan; the social convention of married by 'x' and children by 'y'...and some of us turn to a freestyle approach that often leaves us wondering what to do with our time...
...that thought occurred to me when i found myself an inebriate wretch at a party hosted by an old flame...a long term lover, a home and an education...and there i was doing blow in his bathroom having just stolen his roomates' watch...and i asked myself when it was that i became the personality i write about and stopped being a person...
...then another night, another party, and another old flame, followed shortly after by small arms fire in the kitchen...my bluff was called the chips were down, and i decided to change the game...i changed the suit, passed go and collected triple word score...my understanding of poker may be too limited far that analogy...
...but that's the problem with holding a torch for someone, a dangerous lunatic like myself just can't help setting a few fires while he waits...but i think the residents of that particular neighbourhood have chosen to forget that the bizarre sculpture in the park was once a picnic table...
...one must be cautious getting freaky with the skeletons in one's closet, bones are often brittle when wounds never fully heal, should one snap and impale you, you'll have naught but an interesting story to tell the paramedics...
...last night i was in the basement of the house where i grew up when i heard a familiar sound...i rushed to the veranda, and there as it had been in countless dreams before it, that ominous black funnel, coiling and twisting as it approached...but i refused to run...it grew larger, and more terrible as it drew closer, hurling cars and lawn furniture along its course...but i refused to run...
...it smashed through our red picket fence, and advanced through our backyard, daring me to flee...but i refused to run...my mother pulled me into the house,there was a furious howl of winds from the cyclone, and in its wrath it smashed the windows of our house...our family lay huddled together amid shards of broken glass...we clasped hands and remained strangely unafraid...that terrible roar grew louder, but my family and i remained strangely unafraid as the twister, in its fury, destroyed the house all around us...
...then it was gone...
...i woke strangely refreshed, as though something inside me had changed, and i knew somehow that i would never have that dream again...
...it is said that dreams are the fuel for ambition, but what if you have none?...what if ambition is just another one of those things you weren't born with like a conscience, or a soul, or a gag reflex?...many of us then turn to the plan; the social convention of married by 'x' and children by 'y'...and some of us turn to a freestyle approach that often leaves us wondering what to do with our time...
...that thought occurred to me when i found myself an inebriate wretch at a party hosted by an old flame...a long term lover, a home and an education...and there i was doing blow in his bathroom having just stolen his roomates' watch...and i asked myself when it was that i became the personality i write about and stopped being a person...
...then another night, another party, and another old flame, followed shortly after by small arms fire in the kitchen...my bluff was called the chips were down, and i decided to change the game...i changed the suit, passed go and collected triple word score...my understanding of poker may be too limited far that analogy...
...but that's the problem with holding a torch for someone, a dangerous lunatic like myself just can't help setting a few fires while he waits...but i think the residents of that particular neighbourhood have chosen to forget that the bizarre sculpture in the park was once a picnic table...
...one must be cautious getting freaky with the skeletons in one's closet, bones are often brittle when wounds never fully heal, should one snap and impale you, you'll have naught but an interesting story to tell the paramedics...