A dream of greatest failure

Last night I dreamt that I failed god as the Messiah. I walked through a snowy forest in a bleak yet beatific vision of nature. I took a detour to my right and I found a small, secluded, open square of a field. In the middle of this outdoor room there was a gray rectangle - a kind of holy base for placing some now-absent obelisk of worship - and as I approached it I knew what needed to be done. I had to draw in the light film of snow that had accumulated on this base and through my artistic design I could potentially prove my worthiness to serve as the next embodiment of Christ, or god, or some other unfeasible spiritual power. I waved my arm dramatically and without physically touching the base I was able to brush away the snow - I believed that I would dazzle god with my superior creative power, yet as I drew my parrallel lines and geometric doodles, he didn't seem impressed. I noticed a monitor hanging in one corner and the snow began to fall harder. A blinking cursor served as god's mouthpiece, and it stood still and silent as I waited for approval. I added more and more to my design, and it snowed harder and harder obscuring my work. I looked back to the monitor and the cursor moved: "d'scnt'd". It was over; I had been discontinued. It was quite a disappointment considering I've wanted to be the savior since my mother first explained the concept to me when I was eight.

I wondered why god wouldn't have known before? Why a test? But they say he's got mysterious ways, so that works on the level of cop-out answer.

Lunch with Parker

Three boys walked into the room. Me and Parker were trying to have some lunch in this waste of a diner - boy I fucking hate that Parker, arrogant prick - when the lights went out. One of the boys fell to the ground and started rocking back and forth, talking about how the seal will buckle in a matter of time, I didn't really catch it all. But there was a jelly, a vasoline that seemed to be pouring through his teeth and all over his face and the black and white-tiled floor. I noticed that this drooling hoodlum was splitting his face in half, and under his fleshy carapace their was an angry amorphous figure with smooth and oily dark green skin. The other two boys began to drop lime jelly from their eyes, torrents of that stuff, and they tried to hold it in but that only made it squeeze through their fingers in long orgasmic ropes. They seemed to be in a great amount of pain, and then Parker began mumbling that he had enough of this shit; he got up angrily and stormed out the door. That fuck didn't even leave money for his portion of the check. So I ended up having to charge the meal, and I think one of those god-damned jelly boys may have taken down by card information because I've been getting charged for all sorts of odd purchases lately.

Poisoning the ether.

excerpt from 2-23-06:
"I've been thinking of starting a blog, just because down deep inside I'm a terrible narcissist and it would be motivation to write things of acceptible caliber, not this inane drivel that I spout out night after night, this disgusting... well no need to be that hard on myself, even though I love myself so badly sometimes. It really fluctuates quite a bit, between the worthlessness and delusions of grandeur, I wonder if that's common."

This probably shouldn't be done. I'm prepared for failure, maybe with a dash of cajun seasoning.