i smell murder and drugs and bears.

It’s been a week, maybe, since my last posting. I think, because I never go back and read them, that I was droning on about what to write or where to start or why Dr. Seuss is such a fracking genius. Either way, today as I was carrying on conversations with insurance reps from United Healthcare, I was hit with an idea. While trying to translate the fellow’s broken Indian-English, I realized what it was that I need to write.

It is to be a story of love. A story of good decisions gone wrong. A story of sex, drugs and rock and roll. Of hot summer fun and cold winter nights. Of danger and intrigue. Of shallow and jaded youths with nothing but time and money. A story that will go absolutely no where, but end at a destination all the same. It will feature chapters titled: “Jenny Was a Friend of Mine”; “Midnight Show”; “Everything Will Be Alright”; and many, many more! (actually, like 8 more, but who is counting?)

Working Title: The Killers. See where this is going? I bet you do.

In other news, I had a horrible dream last night. I can’t remember much of it except for being in a locked classroom with a bunch of other random people. I was seated next to Ryan and my co-worker, Mary Beth (this time alive and well) was seated in front of me. I was all panic-stricken and hyperventilating about a serial killer who (for reasons unknown to me) was out to kill me. Like, he would stop at nothing to end my life.

Well, Mary Beth is telling me to calm down and not to worry. After all, we were afforded the protection of a locked, wooden door right? Clearly she had never heard of a little novel (or film) called “The Shining”. Anyhow, the woman who is in charge of the classroom lets us all know that she has a squad of police officers coming to show us what to do in the even we encounter “a dangerous, psychotic escapee mental patient”.

So the cops show up with a tall man. The chief fellow introduces himself and holds up this orange jumpsuit-type thing with two very thin, very long sleeves. He says something like: “All escapee patients will be wearing this. So don’t worry too much because they can’t move a lot with them on. So, you know, you’ll be okay.” Then he calls for a volunteer to help demonstrate his moves. Naturally, since this is my dream, I get called.

So I come to the front of the room and get positioned in front of the guy and, sure enough, when he looks down at me I start screaming: “OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD ITSHIMITSHIM!” And then his hands are on my throat and I can feel it crushing and I’m dying and-

I wake up.

PS: I was streaming KROQ (THE world famous) on my computer this morning and listening to the Kevin and Bean Show. Anyhow, one of the news reports coming out of LA was that like, some 100 people died the other night due to overdosing on Ecstasy. Which brings me to two things:

a) I do not want to die with a pacifier in my mouth
b) I am too freaked out to try that shit because I know if I did I would be one of those 100 people.

One other note. I spoke of my dream to a coworker and she stopped me midway through to tell me that she’s always had this creepy feeling that I will be murdered. She couldn’t explain why.

That’s all.