my how the tables have turned

I haven't been keeping up on the contribution to the internets collapse of late. I've been really into metal and going to school for the enhacement of my plumbing abillities. My camera is locked in Andy's car and the forseeable future of it's return is uncertain. I had a strange dream not long ago that I had been meaning to write down.

There was for some reason a battle going on. Gurilla war fare. It was taking place on the premisis of the job-site that I have been working on for the past couple of months. I was hiding inside one of the buildings which seemed to be only a skeleton. Brian Lieser of all people, comes in and puts three rounds into the outlining region of my heart. I remember Joe being there with a gun in hand and he chose not to save me. It fucking hurt like hell. I was not killed though. I at this point, took the reigns of the dream. I drove home. smoking endlessly. When I got home I consulted my mother. Her appearence was that she had not nessicarily aged greatly, but perhaps had taken some different route in life which had thrown off the space time continuim, or whatever it is that Doc consules Marty about in Back To The Future part two. She was different. But she was my mother. She insisted to take me to the hospital, and I complied. She sat down next to me as I layed upon the bloodied black leather couch. She had a small square mirror set with a dash of cocaine upon it. She blasted a couple arctic caterpillers and we were off to the hospital. I did'nt question her doing it, nor did I ask for a go at it. I did'nt want her to know that I was active in any sort of drug abuse of that extent. Strange though that I thought nothing about her doing it. We waited for an eternity in the arms of the hospital. Eventually I became sick of waiting and Pulled out the bullets from my chest. They came out with ease and also without pain. We went home.

Last night we cut a square in my coffee table and set within it "The Great" wolf mirror. It's really fucking rediculous. But then again I suppose that's how I've been feeling latley. So I call it art and anticipate it's becoming extinct.