Sweetmorn, Discord 13th, yC 3169 I hate March. March is a filler month full of days that last too long in a month that lasts too long. February has the decency to make its presence known, sometimes throwing in a bit of weather then it gets out of your face. March doesn't need thirty one days. Who cares that March has St. Patrick's Day or the vernal equinox. A bunch of unemployed guys get together to pay tribute to a backwater saint by getting shitfaced drunk and worshipping the color green. The vernal equinox is a niche holiday for a niche religion which caters to a niche of society that desperately needs a reason to be held in disdain by others. A reason to be considered different. Something they can hold up and whisper "This is why they don't like me" late at night because the horror of being disliked just because someone dislikes you is too soul crushing for these tender souls. March is Kansas. You have to suffer through featureless March, overlong March, mindless March before you get to Colorado or Tulsa. Four more days are left in this month and you know that they're going to feel like another week. Hell, this March even has an orphan week of a single day. A Monday, no less. In Yer Dreams Last night I dreamt of sandworms. Their behavior and what gives sandworms their sandwormness. I watched them grow from nine meter long beasts to the tremendous behemoths that dwell deep in the dusty, dead seas. At times I felt I was observing their life cycle but I never saw a sandtrout, a spice mass, eggs or whatnot just the sandworms. I didn't have any revelation about them as if I had become like the god emperor or experienced a form of omniscience to let me experience what they experience, I was just a floating observer like on a Quake server.