underwater_with_detours epitome of incomprehensibility I tilt my head and stare at the computer screen until the two arrows line up with my reflected eyes. Cursors: I swear too. I swear that my love is amphibious and not dependent on whether a lover takes up bicycling. It's all about the transfer from water to air. In one dream, I was disappointed to find I could breathe underwater. I wanted some tension, something to push me from one level to another. Swimming up towards the air from the deep sea, the blue-green-gold shading lighter and lighter...but I hesitate to name a metaphor for wakings. I've woken plenty times convinced that my sleep has a recurring theme - -clouds -scary hexagons -the impossibility of 0:1, which Christianity wants me to accept - and each is particular to whatever dream thoughts rose to the surface. And now a word from our condenser: The light-wing thinks "woke" is a joke, but I think language varies and I think the plane has ski undersides. Am I amphibious to you? t/d deletion? I don' wannu. Everybody does that, and by everybody I mean the sycamore synapses that line our streets, I mean the syntaxes, I mean what I can ah I can call the s'mores. No, really, what is it? S word. Goes red in autumn. Fuzzy berries pinkish dark. Drink? Filter. I've yet to have those advanced syntax dreams. I blame autumn spice, Dorval Circle, what the damn are they called? The plants. The damn plants looking tropical in the Dorval Circle bus terminal rain. Syntax. Semantics. Celeriac. Syracuse. Sumac. Took long enough. 221014 ... e_o_i Last autumn I was more hopeful. Now the mope: no lover to revise bicycles anymore. That's right, revise bicycles. That's what to do with them. Ride, revile, reuse. At least I was right about my dream themes going in a kinder direction. It's just that the kindness lies in bizarre dream_travel, not in escapist references to theoretical syntax. Fair enough: travel has more scope for the imagination. 241010 ... e_o_i ...I like how "last autumn" was two autumns ago. Time travels. 241010 what's it to you? who go blather from