i keep dreaming about being a famous writer
i think that i will go to the towns i love and some towns that i hate and i will see so many people
and they will have loved my books or my writing or my drawings, and there will be old friends, people i would have forgotten but then there they are, living their lives, or old enemies, who i will sneer at and give inappropriate directions to invisible events
where they will get lost and be terribly vexed
i have had this same dream since i was very young
i don't know why i think that i should be famous, that anyone should like my writing; i personally don't think it's all that great, thus the stopping, the not writing so often, the pursuit of academic degrees

i wonder if i've given up on it before it started
if maybe the dream was there before or after i even thought of it, and it's been trailing me, waving its arms wildly and shoutinng 'HELO?!' and i've just been puching it in the face and saying 'no, no, you don't understand, i'm crappy at that;
or maybe i'm being realistic, who knows?

the reason i discuss this is that phoebe (that illustrious writer/artist/prof) was talking about how someone said they loved her in a public place on her blog and i realized that i would have just thought 'oh, no you don't' and walked away after shouting maybe an 'ok' or 'that's great'
probably because i hate people

which brings up another question, what the bloody hell am i doing studying other people when i hate human beings? sure, we've got great poetry and prose and tv and such, but i bet if someone had the mind to translate bird and bug speak, i'd like it better....

here are some photos of my home in bton!