I'm in the very early stages of writing a script. It's about two guys who get drunk on a canoe and then get lost on the St. Lawrence river.
It's got me thinking:
If I rolled around for long enough would I eventually become totally round?
What if you bought, like, ten thousand different colours of felt pens, and made every hair on your head a different colour!?
Imagine if trees could grow on water. Like, right out on top. You could build treehouses out in the middle of the ocean.
I smoked too many cigarettes one night and made myself sick. That was the best sick I’ve ever had.
I could really go for some bacon right now.
You’ve got the same Canadian ghost in you as I do. There’s no use pretending.
I had a dream there were all these mountains surrounding me, and the longer I stared at them the taller they got. Eventually they started leaning in on me. And God was there, and I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was talking to me –like, in the wind. And he was reciting poems in this huge brown voice. And it was really sad. The snow was all melting off the mountaintops and falling on my head, so it was like it was raining.
I could hardly breathe. I had this long robe on, and there was no one nearby. I think we were in Saskatchewan.
I guess I lied about the infrequent posts until January. It turns out they have computers in Alberta.
It's got me thinking:
If I rolled around for long enough would I eventually become totally round?
What if you bought, like, ten thousand different colours of felt pens, and made every hair on your head a different colour!?
Imagine if trees could grow on water. Like, right out on top. You could build treehouses out in the middle of the ocean.
I smoked too many cigarettes one night and made myself sick. That was the best sick I’ve ever had.
I could really go for some bacon right now.
You’ve got the same Canadian ghost in you as I do. There’s no use pretending.
I had a dream there were all these mountains surrounding me, and the longer I stared at them the taller they got. Eventually they started leaning in on me. And God was there, and I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was talking to me –like, in the wind. And he was reciting poems in this huge brown voice. And it was really sad. The snow was all melting off the mountaintops and falling on my head, so it was like it was raining.
I could hardly breathe. I had this long robe on, and there was no one nearby. I think we were in Saskatchewan.
I guess I lied about the infrequent posts until January. It turns out they have computers in Alberta.
3 comments:
sheesh, great dream
yeah awesome.
I had a dream conversation similar in a way a while ago:
"what would you do if everything was Vanilla?"
Me: "what do you mean - like everything smells like vanilla?"
"yeah, everything is Vanilla"
I think if you coloured your hair all different colours it would feel pretty gross.
Vanilla. Hmmm.
I like nonsense. A lot. I like it best when it feels -at least for a second- like it ought to make sense.
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