I thought about making a red bike icon for holidays. Unfortunately I'm lazy and argued "durr hurr why didnt you make a purple bike icon when you had the oneiromancy feature running first at heptapod.org?" and the prospect of going back and altering those posts and making another bike icon just made me say fuck it and leave things as they are because no blood no harm.
protip: Not to be confused with Bad Cat who likes to hunt my squirrels and lives with Alaska Lady
I never met the cat, I've never seen the cat, I've only heard about the cat third hand from the Birds. Still hearing the news that he was euthanized because he had FIV has made me a fucking wreck.
When I'm sad, I eat. Or is it grieve?
Also I think I discovered the compliment to my observation from last week that I don't know how to be happy or accept good things in life so I only feel comfortable when everything's falling apart. I like having secrets.
Yet they have to be important secrets.
Why am I so immature?
So I did. Twice.
For a portion of my dream after that all I saw was a digital clock where the numbers were incrementing at a phenomenal pace until they reached 6:50. I don't know if it was a.m. or p.m. but when the clock faded away the room was pitch black leading me to believe it was night.
This part was viewed in third person. My body was laying on the bed staring up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling as if I was asleep. Draped across my chest were strings of pearls, a cord with ping pong balls and finally a thick rope with floaters the kind of which are used as bumpers for tugboats or to demarcate areas of the public pool for the obligatory adult swim.
She was looking considerably younger except her hair now resembled the Bride of Frankenstein.
