an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Monday, August 29, 2005

weep for love and salt

What the fuck happened here? Someone explain it to me, I don't understand . . .


Well, I kept Cynthia's link on my blogroll in case she returned to her url, and every so often I'd click on it, just to see. This morning, the shock of it was that I thought it might be related to her internet harassment, though of course Steve and Simmons are right: just a porn spam squatter. Will now delete the link and flag the site as Suzanne and Lorna advise. O sorry fate.


Someone needs to write an elegy on the death of a good blog.


Hear this, C? We miss you.


"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"

[contact me:]

what o'clock it is


live flowers