westid

the part of me that doesn’t want to listen to a dance beat and spend all night tweaking my head off for days, he’s been successfully distracted so that i can do whatever i want and [at any / for any length of] time

there’s enough caviar to go round but no one is deep enough. i wouldn’t be assed about giving someone a lil kick for their innder friday night fiend. i had sweet dreams though, when i did go to sleep. there was this jungle but it was misplaced somewhere within the valley, and there were some people living in the tree tops who connected with an elaborate network of cable cars. but somewhere deep within the jungle i had a fat grow and even if people robbed from it, there was so much to go around it didn’t even need looking after. it thrived so plentiful there wasn’t even any need for electricity

i don’t smoke weed any more, even though i’ve nothing against it. but in my house [i have a big house as a spawn location in my dreams] there was a secret passage that led all the way into the middle of it with an outside bar and a DJ’s nest – and all the whizz heads were there setting up the sound and lights engineering

this made me wonder, why do people show up in your dreams? some of them people i proper haven’t seen for any length of time … do they show up because they are thinking or talking about you? is the fixation of thought and current activity a means of conveying your inner thoughts to the people who are concerned with your hopes and dreams? this would mean that telepathy is real, and i don’t believe in telepathy or telekinesis. but notwithstanding the possible association is there, so it can’t then – by any existing and currently available technology – be ruled out

so tonight i’m conducting my own possible personal permutation of pseudoscience, with some empirically observed speculative obscurity. a good scientist doesn’t rule by conjecture, and anything i find out will be merely my own. but the results, however impossible to measure in any way shape or form, will expand something i like to think is my mind

maybe i can surprise myself and get through. but i must be realistic about this and not expect the answer to come walking up to my door knock on and call for me … that’s the only part of the procedure i struggle with. i wouldn’t have to do this but i’ve just got to know; oh, who am i kidding? i will never know

another piece of me goes mainstream in the great gorgeous sneakers and the sexy ankles epidemic