Location: Southeastern, United States

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Self-righteousness has killed more people than smoking.

Another set of wierd dreams, brought on by my dad hammering in the attic from 5 a.m. onward. Leaving secret messages on the bulletin board at Burger King. Universities as islands of wealth (less like my hometown and more like Winchester, Mass) in this strange dusty back-country post-industrial sea of absolute poverty. The twisted love lives of friends. (And one dream of being compelled to attack each other, Matrix-style, except luckily it's hard to get a kick to connect in dreams.) It's mostly that feeling of driving through the rusted gas stations and oil-slick fields to my safe-harbor little college suburb that stayed with me as I woke up. And behold, first thing, my brother wants a gaming computer and my father wants an LCD projector and my mother wants a luxury refrigerator and everyone agrees we need a new DVD player (the old one needs cleaning, but is perfectly functional). I am preaching to my blog because preaching to my family is pretty arrogant of me. After all, I have stuff too.



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