atolnon: (Default)
( Oct. 18th, 2016 05:55 pm)
Packed day.

Woke up early from something that surprisingly didn't feel like a nightmare, but easily could have been. Surprising because I was in a piss-poor fucking mood when I hit the sack, and the dream ended up being a Marvel comic - Dr. Strange, Iron Man, Mephisto, and Dracula cross-over. Iron Man's assistant was, by all means, a type of lesser vampire. Russian, came over to work for Stark's old man at the end of WW2 as the Berlin wall was coming up and got his blood from regular legal transfusions. Served as a paranormal investigator.

Dracula and Stark sitting at a bar at the top of Stark Tower as the sun, dimmed and orange through UV-tinting windows, went down.
"The rules are," Stark said, guesturing to a robotic bartender, "is that you drink whatever he serves you. Then he'll make something else. Then you'll drink that." Dracula agrees, goes off-panel, eats a cleaning staffer messily.

Nightmarish. Things are torn off. This is what gets to me, typically. It's not good, here, but the tone is strange and discordant. Dracula sits at the bar. The vampire paranormal assistant pulls an alarm - says it's a gas leak - everyone goes home.

It doesn't hold up, I know. It doesn't make sense, really. Where's Dr. Strange and Mephisto in this recounting? That part of the dream is even more incoherant. No reason to worry about it. They were there.

Woke up early from something that didn't feel like a nightmare, exactly. Took the cats to the vet first thing after coffee, which cost way more than we expected - the vet, I mean - because there was a scare and we thought one of the cats might have cancer. She didn't.

We came home. Kay went to work. I got to writing, which worked okay until about 3 and I had written a few pages, and decided to pour myself some strong English Breakfast tea for myself on an empty stomach and made my dumb ass sick. Ate. Got tired. Dicked around for a little while, read some Virtual Light.

Gibson's a fun read. Every time I sit down with him, I have this image in my head of gibberish sentences, techno-slang, kludgy writing like I see many apply to cyberpunk lit when they write in during creative writing class sessions or something. Gibson does the plot McGuffin thing more often than not, which I get. It's pretty easy. More than one person wants a thing - now race! They're mostly an excuse to have people move through an environment, richly detailed, multi-layered (sometimes literally)... Gibson's a nerd about stuff and places. It could be anything, or anywhere, but I feel like he's big into how things and people fit into their environment. Everything else is just an excuse to craft these things just so someone can run through them and generally smash it up.
.

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