I'm SOOOOOOO sory for not updating like I said I would. I've been a bad boy, and I know what happens to bad boys - I've seen Salo. Haha. Oh God. Way to open with a bad punchline, Will. Anyways, so I'm leaving for Florida tomorrow afternoon and I'm really excited. I plan on doing a lot of nothing if my plan-orienting mother hasn't made an itinerary for the week. Today, my curiosity brought me to a used bookstore in Atlanta. I bought a book of poetry by Samuel Taylor Coleridge for my brother Drew. You see, Drew had a bad spill of I guess you would say it's like insomnia. He couldn't sleep at night. Well, Coleridge couldn't sleep at nights, so he wrote poetry long nights without sleep. He then experimented with opium, which lead him down a hard path of addiction. We read Coleridge in my British Literature class and I really took a liking after reading a play called "Christabel", which I made a slight connection to Ingmar Bergman's "Persona." I bought along with the book of Coleridge, a book called "Confessions of an English Opium-Eater." This is my favorite book that I read in Brit Lit. It's really neat how De Quincey tackles into pre-Freudian ideas on the unconscious and how it relates to reality. In his story, De Quincey eats opium and then falls into this surrealistic dream where he wonders through the streets of London, befriends a prostitute named Anne, and I'll let you read the rest. It gets a lot weirder, like this:

"Creeping along the sides of the walls, you perceived a staircase; and upon it, growing his way upwards, was Piranesi himself: follow the stairs a little further, and you perceive it come to a sudden abrupt termination, without any balustrade, and allowing no step onwards to him who had reached the extremity, except into the depths below."

"I sometimes seemed to have lived for 70 or 100 years in one night; nay sometimes had feelings of representative of a millennium passed in that time, or however, of a duration far beyond the limits of any human experience."

It's so cool that he's getting into lucid dreaming before anyone even coined that phrase. This is 19th century literature giving psychological perspective, which is later discussed heavily by those of Freud and Jung. So, not only is De Quincey getting into psychology, but he's also laying the ground for many surrealists who use dream interpretation as a form of art.

On that note, here are some pictures from "Crimes of the Heart."

This wasn't in the play, I just took it and think it looks really cool.

By the way, The Sounds is one of the greatest bands I've heard in a long time! "Painted by Numbers" and "Ego" are my favorite songs! I drove to Atlanta with this on full blast. I felt really cool. It's like the badass rock and beat sound of The Kills mixed with the catchy melody of Head Automatica. I think this album will be playing on my Ipod while waiting for the arriving airplane to fly to Florida. That sentence was fucked up. Alliteration: 2 t's, two a's, and "to fly to Florida." That just sounds horrid! Oh well, The Sounds will make me feel better about my misspelling. Did you catch that?

Well, I have four screenplays to work on and eight books to read. I think my plans for vacation have been set. I just want to sit out on the front porch with a cup of coffee and breathe that nice Florida air. And watch movies with Drew. My second painting is for Drew. It's of a typewriter over three color panels with roaches and labeled "Naked Lunch." It's not as good as my first painting for my beloved girlfriend Amelia Laney. I'm not going to discuss the details of that painting, because it's still a surprise for me madre Amelia. But here is Drew's painting. I'm iffy about how it turned out. I'm just not going to talk about it and maybe I'll forget how badly it turned out. I didn't want to put it here, but I took the time in taking the picture, so I guess I'd better. And I promised someone that I was uploading it to this blog. So, here it is.

I will do my best to keep updating while on vacation in Florida. Good night all!!!