Okay.

That's it. This is it. I need to do something or I'm going to just die. Yes. I will crumble. Cease to exist. I'm cracking up. Approximately five minutes ago Kevin asked me if I have a creative block.

Yes. It is called: not wanting to look your own words in the face. It manifests itself as "not having an idea" or a first line or an inspiring thought, at least one that has tails you can pull on to agitate them into action thereby creating a goddamn story instead of random lines with faint correlation

but it comes down to: not wanting to look your own words in the face. Fear of failure and fear of your own face.

Well, enough. I'll take my notebook and I'll take my pen and I'll lay upside down with my head hanging off the couch, let the blood rush to my eyeballs and either I'll write something or my eyes will pop out.

I dreamed of a tarot card deck that does not exist, not exactly tarot as it was something entirely different, the cards varied only slightly, they acted as a flipbook, the suit I was fawning over had to do with desire, manifested in image as piles of bodies, and lots of bones. There were other strange things, lots of strange things and a cat that was more like a rat. A cat that was rat like in that it was dirty, it should not be around, I tried to shoo it away, it kept coming back, it got into a bucket of water and it liked it. My first friendly act toward the cat-rat was to dry it off. Immediately following this act there were cat-rats everywhere. In different sizes and fur colors. An infestation in the apartment I was in, there were about nineteen, twenty of them. We spilled into the hallway. The entire building was infested with cat rats. They had to do something about it. We won't talk about that.

I had other dreams, I woke up. One of the first things Kevin showed me in the morning was a video on boingboing. A man talking about toxoplasma, a parasite found in cat poo, they've found out some crazy shit about it [which is really quite interesting and cool; if you have the time, click here] but the main point, in his story and in mine, is that it causes male rats to be attracted to cats, rather than afraid of them. Cat rats.

I am dreaming into the future. What I read about in the morning affects my dreams the previous night. This is not the first time this has happened this week. This is not to say that I transcend time, how can I transcend something that doesn't exist. I might be saying, as we are all aware, that I continue to develop psychic abilities that are entirely useless.

Anyway. Blood rushing to brain, all that, etc.