DreamSeeking
Last night Rian dreampt that I was standing between two busy freeways with my mother, who was having a stroke. I kept phoning 911 on the Crackberry, yes, but the woman who answered only told me that I was not worthy of aid.
I woke in a sweat and went back to sleep and this time Biped was a famous sculptor welding hearth irons into giant spiders in Rian's back yard. Her hair was very very short and blue and she was wearing a pink coat.
I woke and rolled over and the Board was entirely in a mathematic code that Rian could not read unless one had a calculator. Twas painful.
This time when Rian woke I lay awake trying to figure out how to end the other blog which has become a headache - I still have nadine and chili and Daymaster and...? - I think I shall have to end it in a Dallas-esque manner, with Patrick Duffy in the shower moaning:
"Who shot J.R.?
I woke in a sweat and went back to sleep and this time Biped was a famous sculptor welding hearth irons into giant spiders in Rian's back yard. Her hair was very very short and blue and she was wearing a pink coat.
I woke and rolled over and the Board was entirely in a mathematic code that Rian could not read unless one had a calculator. Twas painful.
This time when Rian woke I lay awake trying to figure out how to end the other blog which has become a headache - I still have nadine and chili and Daymaster and...? - I think I shall have to end it in a Dallas-esque manner, with Patrick Duffy in the shower moaning:
"Who shot J.R.?
posted by La Tulipe | 8:28 AM
2 Comments:
can we have Crichton moaning instead?
Blogger may not approve of wet leather, says Rian, whilst eating lunch on a bench in Duncan Gardens.
...and now I know why they call them Crackberries.
Post a Comment
<< Home