narcotic randomosity

[storyrainthejournal]

In the dreams last night, I'm staying in the rooms of a doctor friend located in a kind of underground mall, so it's like store/doctor's office, but is also actually his home, and at one point Batman and Robin (the first one, Dick, near the end of his tenure as Robin) are hanging with me, visiting for a night, and when Dick takes the top of his costume off I see he has scrape marks on his back and I know they are from rough boy sex with him on his back on concrete. At another point I'm going through all the drugs and medicines and holistic stuff in the rooms to treat a young girl who's happened by with a festering back wound. I have no analysis to offer (other than, rough boy sex, mmm).

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bits of entertianing verbiage from various email sources:
"my day is better now spite postmark" (spam subject heading)

"just looked at the pedernales lofts webcam -- saw a splendid view of a
puddle and a bulldozer" (email from friend)

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Here is the website of one of my favorite photographers, Keith Carter, whose work I think is lyrical, haunting, a little creepy, and beautiful. The intro page pic features some firefly action.

Here's some off the cuff alliteration:
mellifluous mushroom mummies making marshmallow moonpies while mitigating mulish mastadon misanthropy

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I am eating chocolate cake and drinking Earl Grey tea and it is good. Bon.