Saturday, June 22, 2002
I'm awake...I'm awake |12:53 PM|
Guess I finally got that fever that should have accompanied this cold. Christ, I've been in and out of reality since about the time I last updated. I'm still dressed in the same clothes that I wore to minority report, and my hair is all silly.
I dreamed of an odd post apocalyptic city of artists. It had been established as a bohemian city, lots of art institutes, free art schools, excellent views, lots of coffee bars where you could sit out side, just a nice place. Then a minor apocalypse came. It was unclear what it was, nuclear, biological, (part it was implied that a giant spaced based laser array had fallen into the wrong hands and started fucking everything up). Now you have this city of artists, cut off from most of civilization, and they've all got to get very mad-max about everything. But they're all still painters, sculptors, musicians, that sort of thing. The only real currency in the city is artwork (which posed an issue for me since I'm very technical, and therefore FUCKED on art skills)
So there were a lot of chasers and shoot outs with stereotypical artistic failures. "I dropped my gun" "I loaded it wrong" "I found a pen"
I actually had to trade a really pricey knife just to get a cheap ballpoint pen, since the worth difference in the city was so high.
I was getting dressed yesterday, and when I opened my closet, I noticed my Didjeridu. I was shocked. 'Oh yeah, I have one of those" so I droned on it for a little while. I should get my circular breathing skills down. I bring this up because not 5 hours later I run into another instance of "didjeridu" in a diary entry. It's odd. I'm sure I'll run into it a third or fourth time tomorrow, since that's the way these vibrations seem to happen.
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//That should close up the previous year.
///Say this is the swap from 2001 to 2002, that should close up the 2001 links.
///Problem is, we also need to close up the final month links too.
/// echo '