Futile Horn

12.05.2003 - 6:34 am (three and some change, I think)

I wish I had more time for this really. I just got out of the shower, so I’m doing this because I’m afraid the guitar strings will shred my fingers if I go back to it before my skin dries out. It’s all hills and valleys really. Sometimes you eat the barr, and so forth. The moments of triumph always seem to come at the point of physical and emotional exhaustion, which isn’t fair, but I guess that’s what I have to deal with. I’ve hardly left the house since I’ve begun all this, mostly just for walks to burn off some energy. I think I will go see The Last Samurai tonight because I am a bit of a sucker for samurai movies, and the few reviews I’ve read said it’s not bad.

I’ve another rant stored up on the devil’s interval. We’ve had a couple of interesting encounters over the last few days, but I don’t have the energy to talk about it now.

My dreams have been terrible. I dreamed one of my best friends died. When I woke up I couldn’t tell if it had happened or not, and I guess I decided it did. I also dreamed my mother went amateur dentist on me and drilled up into my skull, shattering my teeth on the left side, and causing enough brain damage to make it difficult to talk or remember things.

I dunno, language is left brain isn’t it?

The night before I dreamed I had an incestuous affair with Halle Barry. That’s right, incestuous. “But you’re my sister,” I said, smearing prodigious amounts of cunt juice all over her back.

Yeah, that’s enough, I think I can go back now.

Born to play the funky céilí,
Futile Horn