woke up an hour or two ago.
head full of t.v. snow.
this is no way for a bastard to function.
on the train.
heading to queens, in a dreamlike state.
everyone around me is a endless stream of surrealistic ghosts.
this is why i never go to work after a night flight.
who knows what kind of waking dreamscapes would await me in the office like this. maybe a talking boar head.