Nightmares and delusions of grandeur.

I have recently been imbued with a feeling that is so fleeting for me, a feeling that I can actually change the world one person at a time. A detective I have become, willing to put my time and energy into cracking this case that has been open since August and which will have a hole burnt in it by June. I'm not worried, though. I will wait and see where it leads me.

I feel like I should be supporting a family; holding two jobs, what do I do with this money? For now, I'll put it in the bank and act like it doesn't exist until I need it for transportation to and from school come the end of this month.

Last night I had a dream about Stanley Tucci raping and killing me, ala The Lovely Bones (which I do not plan on seeing; I really just want to hear Brian Eno's score). It was creepy and rooted in strange suburban values.

When I woke up I thought I heard my mother speaking about my grandmother; I quickly fell back asleep and dreamt that my grandmother had passed. When I awoke again my house was empty. My mother arrived home a few hours later to deliver some awful news about another member of my family, which I feel uncomfortable disclosing on this blog.

Tonight I am seeing Owen Pallett (formerly Final Fantasy) at Bowery Ballroom with Samira; tomorrow I am seeing Vampire Weekend (for the second time) at Bowery (again) with Kevin. I look forward to both nights of music; let's hope that humanity does not get in the way. Thursday I take off for Park City, where I will try my best to update on all the films I see.

When Doug Martsch sang "I wanna see movies of my dreams," did he actually mean it?

I feel as if my dreams are far too confused and personal, and I would never want to see movies of them. Last night, I spoke my mind to someone and I could never imagine doing that to this person in real life. I am reaching the end of the deployment cycle, I'm falling off. Dreams are audio-visual bursts of distorted reality, and there is some certainty when I say that I am me in them. Goodnight, Mr. Squire.