It was a dark and stormy day...
Feb. 25th, 2004 07:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraSlept straight through last night for the first time in God knows how long and had a very weird dream – a man in a lab coat explaining to me how human lives were (and I quote) “archipelagos of dream” and how it was possible if you knew the neural tunnels to dive into your own dreams and reemerge up through somebody’s else’s into their body. Not quite the same motif as Dark City (a movie I love.) You kept your own unique sense of self though you had the other person’s memories.
Lots of weather here on the quaint and scenic California central coast but not much narrative arc. I think the way it works is that when you’re on a roll, everything’s narrative. Stole that hour to scribble on Saturday. And then for the rest of the day, it was like there was a tape recorder and a random metaphor generator in my head. I ignored it – I had to ignore it, my life doesn’t really give me the liberty to listen to inner voices – and then it went away, the hiss and regret of a tide ebbing back out to sea. And now everything’s quite flat and disjointed.
Gotta keep telling myself. It’s cyclical. It will come back.
In other news, Max’s seventeenth birthday today. Cannot believe he’s turned out so well with me for a mother. Straight A student, football/basketball star, great sense of humor, plays poker and chess, kind to drunks, homeless people and elderly damsels in distress. I feel like some kind of whacked out feminist Frankenstein leering, “I never found the perfect man, so I decided to create him in my genetic lab…”
Primogenitor: antiquated social system for passing along property rights or archetypal momentum behind The Hero’s Journey? News at eleven!
Max’s last year as a minor… I’m gonna really have to work hard at arbitrary parental tyranny this year. Once he turns eighteen, I’ll never have the chance again.
Lots of weather here on the quaint and scenic California central coast but not much narrative arc. I think the way it works is that when you’re on a roll, everything’s narrative. Stole that hour to scribble on Saturday. And then for the rest of the day, it was like there was a tape recorder and a random metaphor generator in my head. I ignored it – I had to ignore it, my life doesn’t really give me the liberty to listen to inner voices – and then it went away, the hiss and regret of a tide ebbing back out to sea. And now everything’s quite flat and disjointed.
Gotta keep telling myself. It’s cyclical. It will come back.
In other news, Max’s seventeenth birthday today. Cannot believe he’s turned out so well with me for a mother. Straight A student, football/basketball star, great sense of humor, plays poker and chess, kind to drunks, homeless people and elderly damsels in distress. I feel like some kind of whacked out feminist Frankenstein leering, “I never found the perfect man, so I decided to create him in my genetic lab…”
Primogenitor: antiquated social system for passing along property rights or archetypal momentum behind The Hero’s Journey? News at eleven!
Max’s last year as a minor… I’m gonna really have to work hard at arbitrary parental tyranny this year. Once he turns eighteen, I’ll never have the chance again.
