i have become increasingly frustrated lately with my inability to recreate what i see around me. just, you know, a pretty leaf or some crazy cloud or something. why do our bumbling, selfaware selves have this innate need to try and communicate the intangible? look what i found, look how red it is, look how it's shiny on this side, it makes me want to cry, i'm going to paint/photograph/write about it so that it'll make you want to cry too. we can't wear eachothers' eyes like glasses, but i think we can get a pretty good idea sometimes. so what happens when you don't have a medium? do you just choose one arbitrarily? i give up so goddamned easily that i'd just end up covered in red paint, crying because it's not bright enough. what happens if you're lazy, or have no attention span? you shouldn't have to think about art, right? it should just come spilling out like a nosebleed all over the place. i've never been good at doing things without over-thinking them. maybe i should learn to draw in my sleep.

oh, speaking of sleep, i had the greatest

i took a trip to england by myself (don't remember how it started really) and ended up on a beach. it was sunny and warm and i was quite enjoying the alone-time. i rented a sort of flotation device that was really just an oriental rug, kind of like a magic carpet but for the water. i let myself float out really far (which was fine because the rug was magic) and accidentally fell asleep while people-watching. when i woke up it was nighttime and i had drifted all the way to france*. the stars were perfectly clear and the air was warm. have you ever felt exceptionally comfortable? where it's the perfect temperature and your mind is sharp and you're sort of hyper-aware of how good everything feels? it was like that. even after i'd gotten wet from walking to shore, and even though it was night, i wasn't cold. there was a restaurant in the distance with those white christmas lights strung up and i could hear a low murmur of people talking and laughing. i walked along the beach a while until i ran into two men who directed me to the nearest airport. there's more, but that's really the only part i want to remember. it seems completely boring, but i woke up with the most incredible sense of joy.

*i recently learned (don't laugh, i am absolutely horrible with geography) that the english channel separates england and france, with france on the south side. at it's thinnest point, i think it's feasible that one could potentially float to the other side, especially with the aid of a magic carpet. in the dream, i knew i'd floated north to south, and i knew i woken up in france. now, i'd probably filed this away in my brain long ago and it was sitting there in my subconscious, but when i learned of it i was convinced i'd had an out-of-body experience and gone on some transcendental mind vacation.

ever a few weeks ago and i've forgotten to write it down. this is mainly for transcription purposes so if you get bored listening to other people talk about their dreams then you may mosey along now.