i had another one of those conversations last night. the ones where you find someone that can talk about more than tv or celebrities or the weather. so you have at it and discuss and debate everything under the sun with no real direction or purpose except to let your ideas and thoughts escape from the cobwebbed cave they live in for most of your days. that pang of sunlight breaks in and they burst forth like an undammed river – our words and thoughts on politics, globalization, human nature and our role in the universe tumble and flow through tributaries and streams until they clash into a rolling sea of the true conversation i crave. and it makes me miss V.

i almost got a tattoo of this

oh, and also go see Hot Fuzz. we went to the preview here (thanks, Matt!) and it was brilliantly funny and grotesque and i loved every minute of it. except for last night, my mind decided to smash elements of Hot Fuzz and the trailer for 28 Weeks Later and create the dream from hell. seriously, it was fucking scary. it was weird and complex and creepily involved the exact type of format and storyline as a film. maybe i should turn it into a screenplay. it would make the perfect movie based on the last scene alone(yes, my dreams have scenes). M. and i and two other people that were trying like hell to escape the zombies swam across this crystal clear tropical bay. when we reached the other side, we split up into two groups and m. and i jumped into his car and sped off but we don’t know what happened to the other two people. when you’re being chased by zombies there’s really no time to look. while we’re driving and feeling like we’re finally safe, i remember that we were indirectly told (voiceover?) that out of the large group of people that started being killed by the zombies – only one survives. we look at eachother and painfully realize that its not over. and that was it. end scene.