Came across another line today…

I’ve been working all day on all sorts of fun things like immigration law and the limits of the 10th amendment in the modern era of constitutional jurisprudence.

Then I started backing up and cleaning up my computer and came across a great line. I don’t know if I can take credit for it, but even if I can’t I would still like to share it with you:

The traffic of coat noise clots my sight.

It was one of those lines that vaguely resides somewhere in the shadows of my memory—I think I was going to use it to write a poem with it. That hasn’t happened. Instead of discarding the words to the trash heap of my unrealized brilliance, I decide to share it with you and have it somewhat memorialized here for posterity.

In other news…the weather is great, really my favorite kind. It is not cold, just overcast and rainy sometimes—very fall and very moody. Perfect.

I need to travel soon and to a place where English is not the primary spoken language. The funding issue along with time is the current constraint.

Funny that Serena Brinderson’s name came up—it was one of those that I had completely forgotten. If memory serves me correct, she was quite pretty.

Luckily, my string of weird dreams came to an end. I shared the cruise with this space and the episode from the following evening was even more bizarre. I might try to turn it into a short story or a film. The synopsis is below.

I am a member of the Union Army stranded in the sub-Sahara. I wake up covered in the fine sand and look around to realize that I am strangely aware of my surroundings. Turns out that I am found by some Zulu looking voodoo priest who befriends my and is my guide through the surreal landscape. I am thirsty but do not drink.

As far as the eye can see, sweeping dunes covered in bright colors embolden the horizon. I scale one with the help of my friend and find it very strange. You see, apparently I am in the desert, there is sand everywhere and no water. But on these dunes all is different. The dunes are carpeted by a wide assortment of cana and cala lilies. What’s more is that where there is open space, there are all sorts of African wildlife, elephants, lions, gazelle, monkeys and the like. The thing is is that they are all buried up to their respective knees in the dunes—that and they are made of plastic.

So…its strange. I turn to my friend, the Zulu voodoo priest and as I am about to speak, a heard of wild mustangs thunders over the adjacent dune and up to the one we occupy. I am swept away and returned to the encampment from which I apparently left.

It gets even more strange….