saw narnia (witch, wardrobe, &c.) last night, went right home and had the kinkiest dreams about the ice queen.

my my. i'm still more active at last fm. look me up there, pretty please? i write a lot in  my journal over there.

wind up bird chronicle uses mysterious and subconcious strategies to reveal things about me that i'm still unsure how to name or conciously make use of.

increasingly, i think naming them or knowing consciously how to make use of them is less than irrelevant, but the attempt to name or use might be counterproductive completely.

On the web today I read that:

In 1995, North Korea entertained a delegation from World Championship Wrestling, who were invited there to perform. Among the wrestler group was some guy named Ric Flair, and oddly Mohammed Ali. Flair wrote up his stories and published them.

Among his tales, there is this

Because of the ravages of Parkinson's disease, it was difficult to understand Muhammad Ali when he spoke. But at one function, we were sitting at a big, round table with a group of North Korean luminaries when one of the guys started rambling on about the moral superiority of North Korea, and how they could take out the United States or Japan any time they wanted. Suddenly, Ali piped up, clear as a bell, "No wonder we hate these motherf*ckers."

"The compulsion to take ourselves seriously is in inverse proportion to our creative capacity. When the creative flow dries up, all we have left is our importance."

- Eric Hoffer

i have put my life into a period of flux, upheaval, and radical transformation.

while all of this was overdue downright inevitable, it doesn't come without it's particular costs.

but then again, piper-paying has never before felt so right or easy.

Mon AM: Just fine.

Mon Noonish: Unaccountably tired.

Mon 6 PM: sick + wretching everywhere

Mon 8 PM: Phenegran then sleep.

Tue 5 PM: wake up, misery

Tue 7 PM:  Sleep.

Wed. 10 AM: wake up. Misery.

Now Wed. 1:50 PM, awake, wretching, misery.

blehhh.