Ms. Entropy

Got signed up for classes today, so there's that. Just another solidification, another reminder of some paramount changes in a future that's approaching quickly as it is hurdling away, as all things are until there's nothing left. Time is of the essence, so when I say I'm writing a book I mean I'm staring very hard at those first four lines and contemplating how to write a believable passive martyr character. I've also been watching lots of some cheesy nineties alien t.v. show called Roswell, which would be an indulgence save for all the brain cells driving off in my teal Z3 convertible with a younger man and flipping me the bird. It's a good show, though. I like it. I still haven't received my housing information, which troubles me because I submitted my application late and requested a single room after realizing I'm devolving into a misanthrope. It's unfortunate but at the same time I picture myself as some unkempt madman and I just have to laugh. The dreams have been alright, lingering on the benign familiarity of everyday life. Friends' faces decomposed and then resurfacing in household objects. Always smoke and laughter, and music. Once I felt my tooth come loose in a red and gold theater with my parents. I tongued it in my mouth for a while wondering if I was awake, but then the dream shifted and I was someone else entirely.  I'm not doing them justice. Some were particularly fantastic, bits of stories I moved through to pick up the patterns with which I should maneuver my real life. But they were all dead, flat-lining in the morning when I tried to summon them to memory. Lost to the NyQuill which covered me with heavy black tar for 14 hours a night. It clung too, through the days I kept slipping into my imagination as easily as I had in my youth. I forgot to mention I was sick; I was. Just a common cold that hit me pretty terribly. I took long baths with all sorts of oils, salts and candles, ate little, and slept during the day in a large white bed. All the while everything blurred together and when I finally emerged I felt as though I had taken a trip or come home after a night at a carnival. It's so bright here, it's so blinding. The kaleidoscopic array of poppies, avocados, mountains and the pacific spinning 1,040 miles an hour in universal silence.
It's okay that I write without purpose because there is none.