So I write stuff, see. Of late it has been my best hope for these last dark months. It is a simple practice.
But I’m having a thought here, Barbossa. (Brain completes thoughts with quotes.) There was this crazy dream I had a few weeks ago, and it involves a yacht, and a dark figure inspired by The Angel’s Game (didn’t love, honestly) crossed with Tom Waits, or more specifically Tom Waits in this movie, and a long chain weaving through a city.
I know there is something serious about this guy. It was a cold-sweat-sudden-waking kind of dream, and once there’s enough distance where I can see what he means clearly, this writing of him will go somewhere.
He’s there, he’s there, he’s there.