2001-08-08 - 7:45 p.m.

Strange flashes of imagery.

It's the future or the past or today and I'm a famous historian. I am praised worldwide and I'm laughing all the way to my bankrupt insides because they've forgotten that what I do requires no talent.

Honestly, I get a strange deja vu sensation on this subject. I've been selected by God as the fact memorizer.

"Gee he's so smart!"

"Yeah, he was able to assimilate useless information."

In other news....

falling victim to poetry. I can't get enough Cummings or Blake or Ginsberg or anyone else capable of gripping my neutral-toned entrails.

I tried my stab at it.

The film Slam is absolutely engrossing, few others come close. Quite the obscure gem - check out at all costs. Grants a renewal to my objectively snide thought procession.

Oh how I adore you wordcraftsmen...

fucking romantic idealists!

I see the downfall of civilized society and I hope; I'm convinced poetry is the catalyst.