Flip Page

Two-thousand and Eighteen Ano Domini (whichever dominar you choose).

That’s right, we made it. Not by any choice or effort on our part. It just happened. We can’t really take credit for it. Anyway, here’s me rhapsodizing about how great the next year in my life will be, blah blah blah, but really, I’m not so positive. I’m cynical, really.


See, instead of going to parties tonight to celebrate with other humans, I’m sitting at home alone. That’s right. I’m letting myself get hung up on friction and with a lack of inertia, looking at the Internet with a glass in one hand and a keyboard in the other. Social avoidance. I don’t mind the party, but I fear the expectation (it’s not you, it’s me). And so, without putting any effort into getting up and going to where the other humans are, I stayed here. Alone. I had invitations, but deftly avoided all of them. Phew, that was a close call.

I guess you can say I am leaving 2017 exactly the same way i lived it. And that’s a fucking shame.

Really, lately I’ve been getting called out for my cynicism and negative thinking. I really, really need to stop that, or at least be more delicate with it. Sometimes people don’t want me to talk like Grumpy Cat. I can’t help it sometimes, but really I can help it by just shutting up. Eh. I need to cull that behavior and try to stop pointing out the riggings underneath things. Sometimes people don’t want to know, and it’s not worth telling them. Anyway, enjoy this educational video to kick-start your self-examination:

I hope 2018 is better. I really do. In the grand, universal scale of things, it means nothing. Earth time is infinitesimally insignificant, and time itself is a human construct, blah blah blah, but whatever. I need to update the copyright on this site and wish us all the best. So here’s me wishing you the best. Happy New Year, from me, to you. Phaysis loves you.

Songs about Dreaming

Got a not-insignificant amount of sleep this morning. It was pretty great. Slept long enough to dream (you know how important this is). So, dream log warning:

I was walking around, as I do in dreams, and crossing paths with various random 20-somethings. College town, college dreams, I guess. Sunny but gray, backsides of buildings, urban neighborhoods. Hung out mid-afternoon with some party people; I played DJ with my portable CD player, showing them the old ways, the old tunes, the old gods. Teaching them the majesty and wonder of Einstürzende Neubauten, The Cure, Pigface, and Big Black. They were really digging on it.

The party dwindled down to just three of us: a girl, a guy, and me. They went off to be frisky; I dejectedly sat with my music. Then they came back, sat on a couch opposite me. She started stripping and looked at me to gauge my reaction. I looked at him to gauge his. He looked back at me. She said, “So, are you the adventurous type or the thinking type?” I had a long pause.

Before things got interesting, the light hitting my bedroom curtains, which had been casting a daylight glow through a window into my dream’s party room, reached a point where it woke me up. The veil between dreaming mind and dreaming body is paper thin; things such as the light through the curtains, the curve of my pillow, the popping of my ceiling fan, the groan of the A/C compressors above my bedroom — those all contributed their essences to my dream. I don’t mind, really; it was fuel to the chaotic rhythms in my brain as I tried to put a pattern on them. What resulted was a bit of what I always wanted in some way or another.

I typically don’t like writing about dreams, because they are so random and baseless that when I hear someone talk about them, I tune out, because I can’t connect. They’re just so meaningless, a string of experiences and observations that could not possibly happen in reality. But then, sometimes, a dream sticks around long enough to draw some meaning from, and I feel I have to share.