sleep, to dream, to have fantasies fulfilled, dreams made true, to walk amid visions of beauty and truth, to live life itself, typing without looking, head on the floor, but it's on a carpet, soft, slightly padded, it's blue grey, kind of soft, inm that carpet sense. so do i muse anymore? do the questions from life continue to pop into the head? or are things better now, in a strange way more complete? television is always a source of provocative thought, like x-files, i don't know why i watch anymore, much like dawson's, the shows i do want to watch, i'm never home for anymore, but then living a different life is, in its own way, just different from watching lives on television. cupid takes place in chicago, so if i'm not watching the show, i figure i should be doing something in chicago, or something. a whole day passes without words on the screen.