Starts

Starts

you know how blog posts start?

when the feeling of wanting to type something out tiptoes on the edge, i get a tirrade of wonderful ideas of how i'm going to put them all into one piece of coherrent, flowing prose. but that never comes into being. what if i could type with thoughts? what if my fingers were as fast as my mind could churn up ideas? what if i could express even the vaugest of emotions, that slight wisp of feelings in that fleeting moment?

most likely my friends and family will think i'm mad. sometimes i wonder if i'm the only one thinking about thinking.

haha. i just bought sandman 8: worlds end. it's really. really. good. travellers from the different planes of existence (a necropolite professor and his two apprentices from necropolis, two humans, a fairy, a centaur and other assortments to characters) get stranded in a tavern because there's a reality storm raging outside. and they tell stories to wait them out. one tells a story of how this man gets lost in an image of a city he once knew so well. the city sleeps, and the city dreamt, and the poor man got lost in the city's dream. in the beginning of that story, before all this happens to him, he's sitting on the electric train, thinking to himself. (i shall try to recall exactly what his thoughts were) "sometimes i wonder what i would be like if this train suddenly gets transported to an alien planet. i wonder how long it would be before we were forced to talk to each other. i wonder who would make love to whom. and i wonder whom we shall eat first when we get hungry, and i'm slightly ashamed of my thoughts"

gaiman at his best.

here's something i read in the life of pi. they managed a zoo and as they were going to close the zoo and migrate, they had a lot of logistical issues: "to sell a gerbil (or was it another small mammal), the paperwork involve is a much as an elephant. to sell an elephant, the paperwork is as much as a whale. and you must never try to sell a whale"

haha...