good luck charms.

I had one of those hideous dreams last night, the mundane variety where you’re late for class, you haven’t done your homework, you can’t get to work and when you do you forgot something. Invasion of my dreams is not taken lightly. Changes must be made, or my soul is a gonner. Again.

There is a certain poignant validity in seeing your soul constantly in jeopardy, like a medieval Italian.

Try to steal MY soul, will you?

Well….we’ll just see about that.

Espiritu Sancti. Quid me mihi detrahis? Semper Eadem.

I cast thee out university life, I cast thee out ineptitude, laziness, comfort, satiability…

To the Ladies in the Audience: If you don’t want to get hit on walking down the street, all you have to do is pretend to be crazy. Works like a charm.

Just wave your conducting stick (made of whatever you find lying on the street) and hum loudly. It’s even fun!

Maybe a lot more people than we know are only pretending to be crazy. Not for any practical reason, like avoiding a murder charge, but simply because it’s the place to be. Total and complete irresponsibility and a certain power in provoking unease in those around you. And it’s creative, you choose the form of the crazy.

Create your own motifs.

The proof is in the pudding….

As they say.

I think running into crazy people on the street is good luck.