Faustus is gone.

I had what I think was the longest most garish, most involved rock-und-roll sado-sexual funhouse nightmare (or series of nightmares) I have ever had last night. It seemed it would never end. Even when I awoke to micturate it just seemed to pause and start in again immediately.  The details are hazy at best (and becoming even more ephemeral by the minute), but I think even Miike would've been proud of the vinyl and barbed-wire pink and yellow duckie douche in heavy rotation in the swimming pool of pain.

Not nearly as sanguine as my vision, but it'll do pigs . . .

Thank you to everyone who made an appearance last night no matter how twisted or sinister. Sheesh.

It's interesting that this dream surfaced now when I am, in fact, being more exponentially and specifically creative than I have in some time.  I normally only have protracted bloody violent dreams when I'm not being originative in any way.  I suppose it could be like when you get a lot of sleep you want more sleep.  Or carbs make you crave carbs.  Or sex, sex. That kind of thing.

I do have a lot on my mind - and *in* my mind - but I am also fatigued (physically, emotionally, &tc.) and I need to focus on the next show of the series (which I'm very excited about BeeTeeDubs) and Faustus just ended.  Perhaps some of that dreaming was an attempt by my mind to make room for new things.

Excisions can be vicious.

I suppose that might also explain why I went to bed so early after a fairly uneventful afternoon. We'll have to see how this all plays out.

And on an entirely different note, here's my favorite image from yesterday's strike:

No the mannequin had nothing to do with FAUSTUS.  It just needed to get back to the shop with the rest of it and Anita seemed to take a little too much joy in the task.  ; )

So there you go.

Anon.

Best,

M

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Funding:                110.3%

Days in Ohio:         71

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Today is sponsored by Aaron Saari & Jen Maravegias