My sleep last night was intermittent. The thoughts, such pretty scenes, that appeared in its wake, clearly needed my attention. In the warm gelatinous murk of the state between sleep and waking, I drew up (or was shown) scenes of love, of possibilities. There was no regret upon waking that, while sweet, these scenes would probably never manifest. They may or they may not; mirage or truth, they were lovely to behold.
Janelle and I saw Prometheus today. I enjoyed it quite a bit, but not as much as I expected would. Still, I can't really find fault with the movie and I have a feeling I'll appreciate it more after subsequent viewings. Janelle, however, only gave it two stars because, and I quote, "There wasn't any dancing". I tried to explain to her that this wasn't the type of movie that required dancing. "I don't know about that", she said, I can think of at least two scenes that would have benefited from some crunk". Ok, she said none of that, but it's possible she might if you ask her to rate the movie. When it was over, we tried to make sense of it, but I'm not sure how successful we were. That's alright, easy answers are for chumps.
Alright, time to go work on my movie script. It's about a soon to be retired bank robber who gets lured into one more heist. All the guy wants to do is live in a bungalow on some beach in the Bahamas and make money tending bar. I won't tell you how it goes for him, but you'd be correct if you guessed not well. And things won't go well for you if you steal this fantastic idea. I'll sue you from neck to nuts.
Peace and good tidings, you wounded, forlorn lambs.
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