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in a web of glass, pinned to the edges of vision

oddities of latenight distractedness.

I'd forgotten how often we saw Magritte

mucha mosaic

oddities of latenight distractedness.

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It's scary to go back and check on someone who flipped out at one like ages back, since they'd happened across one's radar passingly- and with the slightest bit of research, find the person has been flipping out on other people.
And not only that, but flipping out at them for similar reasons to why they flipped out at one's self (i.e.: basically the same rationale given for the New Number Two's incorrectness as was given for one's own incorrectness (hey, maybe I just touched on a central theme of The Prisoner and wasn't even trying to!)).

But yeah, totally my problem that this person flipped out at me, and that I still sometimes think on it and go '...what the hell was that shit all about, anyways?' Nothing that person should perhaps examine about their own behavior, there.


Off to bed to bus to train to airport to new job (Crawl to the new job/ By coughing at the airport/ By limping to the taxi/ By throwing back the blanket/ Hanging down the withered leg) (and for those keeping score against their own calendars, I will be back in Hollywood next mon-weds). Pleasant dreams, those of you who are, like me, naughty and not yet abed.
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