More dreams

Lately, my dreams are all about failure and dissapointment. There was the Hotel Rwanda/Bird flu scenario, where I made some random act of insecurity as help came, and ended up left behind in a shellshocked tennement building, killer viruses buzzing around, bullets hanging in the air. And then I dreamt (ah..) that I finally got my nikon camera. But when I got my hands on it, it turned out to be used, the text worn off the buttons, the casing rattly. And as I was trying it out, chasing pictures, nothing turned out any good. Every motif I saw slipped through my inept fingers. And then the last one, dreaming that it was already saturday night, and I hadn't prepared anything to eat. People already coming in. As I began to scour the shelves for alcohol, as a way to remedy my bad hosting, strangers started to barge through the door, with long hair and leather jackets. A large bottle of gin broke on the tile floor. Looking at this scene I had a profound sense of doom.

The bassline of addiction

Today, this afternoon, I am drinking too much coffee again. It's like with alcohol. You can see it, feel it, know what is going to happend. But you don't stop it. Don't stop yourself. Why? Indeed. There is something in the consumtion (self destruction), conceptually set apart from the obvious effects (intoxication, exhiliration) that lure you. That lure me. As far as I know, you could be one of those. Who don't. Don't drink coffee. Don't drink alcohol. But I am not one of those. I am weaker in some ways than that, wouldn't say no. Wouldn't say stop. Until I know for sure the damages outweigh the benefits.