i_feel shilohlives I feel sooo strange. For once I am the exeprienced one...how did that work? I feel so happy. I haven't been this happy in years...You gave me this. I feel so scared...What if it dosen't work... Oh well...i feel more but whatever right? 040430 ... belly fire I dreamed I met you at a smorgasbord, Shiloh. You looked angry, and your arms were full of books - not food. They were all tattooed with your name. In the dream I didn't think to speak to you, but hid my face and immediately wondered why...how would you know me? I can't say why your name was lit up in my subconscious last night, but I feel there's a reason somewhere. 040430 ... shilohlives If the reason ever becomes clear to you, I would love to read it. I feel as though we live in the same place and I see you daily, because I often see your name on here. 040503 ... lotuseater Don’t have the time for the satanic later-drawn snapshot of descending trails. As the one on the left forks towards the setting sun, I decide that the sun is too bright to be staring at while I walk. So I take the one on the right. And I am soon rewarded with a plethora of dark and poisonous rat beings; this is not how it was supposed to happen. Of course this all happens at the same time, because it was always that way. Nothing is sane, sacred, so sayeth the commander of the chief brainwaves, microwaves, and ocean waves. Suddenly the rat beings take on the form of a large and glowing orb, spreading warm radiation. The smell is vanilla. I can see beneath them, as they float by, the plant life begins with the roots spreading, flowering, changing like the changeling. In only one of the eyes wishes lie about the desire of pictographs depicting fishies and duckies lightly dusted upon the front mantle, next to the discarded memories, photographs of forgetful characters, mostly represented with swirling colors and loud strange noises. Melodies from mars sound different than this. Arctic ticking clocks sound their tunes to the beat of the tribal doctorate candidates as the centipedes writhe. They cannot get out of this small plastic cup, not even if they move all of their legs at once. Once, under the raspberry tree, sifting through the apparently attractive soil, I was collecting small curled millipedes on a toy snare drum. None of them reached more than one inch long. As soon as the drum was full enough, we would climb into the tree and feast upon the ripe and delicious berries. I cannot remember what was done with the millipedes, though. Perhaps we put them in a jar, brought them over to my grandmother’s apartment to show her the day’s gain. She would no doubt appreciate this, we would think. Of course she was not interested in the disgusting insects, squirming and biting. We would try and explain that they cannot hurt you, that millipedes do not bite. Plus they we so small… what could possibly be the harm in a thousand of them? Another day was spent collecting berries from the shrubs. These were not the berries that could be consumed; these were only ones that birds ate. The adults told us they were poisonous. We discovered that they left large, bright purple spatters on anything they were thrown at. So we proceeded to spend the rest of the day throwing them at the mailbox as hard as we could, effectively covering it in this interesting color. 040503 ... inconnue friendless 040504 what's it to you? who go blather from