10/28/26 - A Dream Goes On Forever

I've been dreaming of pearls and saltwater, waves and scales. Everything within me right now is asking to return to the water.

I can't stop thinking about it. I need to get back to the water, even if its the last thing I do.

What's in Rivertown? What's near the Marina? How can I get closer to it? I need to know.
It's a feeling of being awash beneath the waves, a real ripe sort of smell I learned to appreciate when I was younger.

Maybe its vain. Just escapism, a needed vacation, sure.
I can't be without it, I'm finding. Maybe it'll be Wheatley, y'know. Maybe it'll be the coasts again. I know its coming, its where the confusion can cease. Maybe just for a second.

I think surfing seems cool, maybe I've got it in me to learn. Who knows, yknow. Who knows?

-----------

Allergies are killing me today. So bad I'm lightheaded, it's got me wistful.

I've gotta write some letters, soon. I'll be wearing the hat of a writer once again, soon enough. God willing, my hair will fit into it.

The fall is a season of revelations, a season of honesty. It all comes out during this one. It's why I like it. Everything remains raw, as Busta would say. I'm engrossed in it, the harried haze of it all, y'know. People are as people will be, in a time like this.

Food is scarce in Gaza, its getting bad for those folks over there. I still don't hear from Manal too much, its only from Remas' reassurance that I can manage to keep the tears away.

I keep listening to that song by the Stones, Wild Horses. There's something about that winding wheel of a melody, that shaky passion that attracts me to that tune.

Wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses
Couldn't drag me away

I was thinking a little bit about Uncle Rob, hearing that one.

It seems like I have been somewhat forgiven, by that gorgeous visitation further north. Indigo will communicate something to me, something I hope to savor. Whatever frequency might be heard by me is that which I accept wholly.

Tommorow, I will accompany my friends to a King Crimson show. That should be exciting! It should, surely, fuel some of that rockism I've been shamelessly entertaining within myself in pursuit of art, don't I know it.

I missed Oktoberfest, and the Ren Faire, but the spirit of pulp hasn't escaped me. The Matter of England, Robin Hood, Prince Valiant, Medieval Times, Dragonslayer, Fellowship of the Ring, all of that... it's gripped me again. And I'm not complaining.

This really is the best place for all of it, I feel. The doughy, soot covered warmth of the rust belt suits the aesthetic ideals of my vision.

Its like... let's mix together WADL Detroit with A Prince Named Valiant. Frankenmuth meets the Fairgrounds Bus Depot. Beer Maidens in Dirndls with Locs and Finger Waves. Big Light Up Party Store Signs in Yellow and Orange on Cobblestone Taverns. Selkies jumping out of the river for a Polish Sausage.

Its stone bridges and Shasta and beach glass in Chene Park. It's ladies in waiting in the line to the bathroom at TV Lounge. It's falling asleep in your car at the drive up AnW with a Root Beer in your hand. Its getting Coneys with Persephone at the intersection of Tatarus and Elysium.

I know you can see it. 


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