francois truffaut's first film in english

post three hundred

September is a memory, and I haven't posted here in weeks. Hopefully this is changing soon. I've been on something of a vacation. Sort of.

This post is number three hundred, which doesn't really mean anything but seemed a fun thing to mention.

Back to normal soon? Yes, I think so.

wake early and hear your morning voices

"If you stuff yourself full of poems, essays, plays, stories, novels, films, comic strips, magazines, music, you automatically explode every morning like Old Faithful. I have never had a dry spell in my life, mainly because I feed myself well, to the point of bursting. I wake early and hear my morning voices leaping around in my head like jumping beans. I get out of bed to trap them before they escape."

— Ray Bradbury

back to my second life

the bradbury building in person at last

dream account

This is a placeholder for a dream account. A sad, strange, beautiful, disturbing, perplexing yet uncommonly revealing dream I had last night about an ailing author.

The dream has been on my mind all day. Unusual of late, I can recall the story in tremendous detail from start to finish.

Earlier in the previous day before the dream, I had picked up the cremains of my beloved cat-companion. I brought home her ashes in a little wooden box.

At least for now, I'm not ready to fully transcribe either story.

"It's getting late," he said.

* * *

next week: a road trip