flwoing through my dreamstate with my fingers to the keys, thingking faster than i can transcribe and not seeing the result with my outward-eyes. not planning afre what to say, not far afore at any rate (except perhaps that, and this, and this again; oh dear). when the beasts and man collide with the.. tangent lost. BREAK. pigs snout in my face, only leaving with my typing, and still ghosting in the same spot as i watch it meander off in some yellow stone village, with the world "Itallian" painted on a wign in my bain (but not part of the village, as such). eating, being eaten by a lart roundy fish-thing, fascinated by my head, as it is. correcting spelling as i go withough being able to see that my fingers are even on "home row". what's the dingo doing on the mantle next to the antlered dear head-trophy, and more appropraitely, what's the trophy doing up there. whose cabin is this anyway. sick fucker(s).time to walk the dog.