Banal dreams lately. More mundane, really. That's what happens when reality starts intruding on your life... I've found myself dreaming about hanging around with coworkers, buying DVDs (these are the worst--you dream that you've finally found this amazing thing you think you wanted, and yet there's this sickly sweetness to it, like rotten honey, because subconsciously, you know it's all a dream, and you'll wake up feeling loss for something you never had, feeling empty and materialistic for having dreamed about shopping).

Listening: Nothing right now, although at work, it's been nothing but Parliament--I've needed the funk lately--and The Pogues. Actually, there's been some VNV Nation in there too.

Drinking: Coffee -- second cup, about to start second pot. Just a big sack o' starbucks from Costco. Can't afford the good stuff right now.

Reading: Gods, The Fountainhead is a long book. And to top it all off, I was reading up on the life and philosophy of comics artist Steve Ditko, the man responsible for the look (and direction, really) of Spider-Man, when I stumbled accidentally on a MAJOR spoiler to the end of The Fountainhead. Now, I'm struggling with finishing the last 300 pages of a book whose ending I already know.

Eating: I oughta do that, huh? Maybe that would explain the emptiness I feel--it's just hunger. Who knew?

More later. I'm going to some comics-related event this afternoon. it'll be nice just to get out and do something...anything... I have some kind of rant about modern pulp and the classic pulp magazines in me somewhere, but I need to read a little about Penny Dreadfuls before I get too far into it.

eating: lasagna -- straight from costco's freezers to your oven. You see, this morning, I was awakened by screams of horror as Maki realized that, for no visible reason, the corrugated piping connection the hot-water valve to the sink had burst. The hateful little bugger was spewing scalding water by the gallon all over our kitchen floor. I spent a few minutes trying to wake up my brain, but it didn't do any good, so I plunged my hand into the steaming mess and turned off the valve on my own. It took a while, so I had a few minutes in which to pray for adrenaline to kill my ability to feel pain, as the water was quite hot. it never did, though. Fortunately, the burns were mild, just cooking my left hand a little. Really, I'd expected Hulk-like strength and stuff... You know, "you wouldn't like me when I'm angry." But no, nothing.

Reading: Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead.
Listening: Funker Vogt's Maschine Zeit, VNV Nation's something or other.
Humming: The music to Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring -- it's stuck in my head for some reason.
Playing: Super Robot Wars A for the GBA, Smash Brothers Melee for the GameCube. Planning on getting back into some SNES RPGs, like Earthbound, Chrono Trigger, Final Fantasy V (in Japanese), and Front Mission (in Japanese).
Drinking: Black Russian, a type of tea I can only find in France. What to do when my supply runs out?
Thinking: Focus. Do not let your mind slip into lazy slumber. Most people walk around half asleep, unaware of the details of the world around them. Me too, let's be honest. Awareness, "awakeness"--these don't come naturally, not in any appreciable sense. One must refine these faculties. In the words of Walter Pater, one's true goal in life is "to burn always with a hard, gem-like flame." Intensify, focus, sharpen, and burn.

Hm... Time to broadband my friend's weblog. Here: Avalock. (Hell, 'ave two, they're fat free! Gods, I kill me. I KILL ME!)