Me Big. You Little.

Desiree Burch is bigger and badder than you. Except when she's smaller and better (with more parentheticals than you can handle).

Sunday, May 29, 2005


Apparently, spiders in dreams are good luck. In real life, they aren't too bad either. They kill other bugs, which makes them superhero badasses. They are like fishers of the sky and the corner of my bedroom. And they also tweek out just as much as other humans.

There was a red and black one in my dream last night. I had already woken up once or twice, so this was the vivid, fucked up part of the dream. The spider was chasing me. It was jumping and hopping fast, like at ATV over my shag carpeting. I was stumbling around my room, trying to get dressed for work, which was like trying to get dressed for school, which was like being onstage and not knowing my lines, because I was already an hour late for life, it was still dark out, and I was unprepared. And this spider was tumbling toward me. I found someone's old sneakers in my room. I took the right one and softly bludgeoned the spider hiding out in my shag. Dude, good luck was chasing me, and I killed it. Of course. At least I tried. It was still kicking a little when I woke up. Mortally-wounded luck. Wait for me.


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