Wednesday, July 29, 2015
volume ONE: “Oneiric Memoir”
“In my dream,...”
I'm a professional oneiric confessional artiste.
I work the secret salons and supperclubs of a darkly dreaming demimonde in the black light district of a city slashed by spindly bridges and whispering rivers.
I spend my days sleeping and cutting up my dream journals in a seedy residential hotel, scissoring out the juiciest bits and preparing my routines, my urgent nocturnal transmissions.
Because every night I get up here and I clutch the mic and I immerse a piss elegant audience in communiques from my war torn inner life.
I dream at all hours in a million colors so you don't have to.