My dreams, even the baby ones I have on my bus ride to work, are slowly
driving me insane.
Hey, all is going really well. In fact I
was going to e-mail you about this
crazy expedience I had last night. First, I lay perfectly still for three hours and do nothing but
think. It was great for a while because I was getting so many good ideas
about music and videos and art junk and how I can restart my life, then the
bad stuff starts grabbing at me like a giant talon of a bird crushing and
banging my head, so I start practicing my tai chi breathing so I can relax
and maybe sleep, only instead of imagining air flowing through my body and
out my extremities, I imagine chicken mcnuggets flowing out my brain and
through my body. Does this mean that I am a sad swollen byproduct of
consumer culture or am I still just a fascinated critic of it?
- Paul Theriault